


A Delicate Matter

by havetaoque



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awesome Gwen, Breaking out of Camelot, Drama, Dungeons, Gaius' Secret Drinking Habits, Humor, Humour, Hurt Merlin, Magic Revealed, Multi, Plans, Potions, Protective Arthur, Reveal, Sedition, Whump, rope, smirking, sorcery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7959250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havetaoque/pseuds/havetaoque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is arrested for threatening the king's ward, the prince's life, and for practicing dark magic and enchantments. Morgana lurks behind the accusations. Arthur, Gwen, and Gaius are determined to help Merlin, albiet in an unconventional way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Delicate Matter

CHAPTER I

Merlin was lugging two buckets of water down the corridor when the felt a pair of eyes on his neck, burning into his skin beneath the rough-spun neckerchief he wore. He froze, peering into the shadows of the sconces and saw her, beautiful as always, watching him. Merlin tensed, but didn't speak. Morgana's eyes trailed after him as he continued towards Arthur's chambers with the bath water.

Morgana spoke to his retreating back. "You won't be around here forever, Merlin." 

And Merlin tried not to let her threat bother him. 

Morgana needed to find a way to silence Merlin. He hadn't talked yet, but it was only a matter of time -- of this she was certain. And the simplest way to get rid of someone in Camelot, so it seemed, was to accuse them of sorcery. 

"This is excellent sister," Morgause whispered in the vaults beneath Camelot. "That boy is nothing but trouble. I don't know why we didn't think of this sooner." 

Really, it was almost too simple. With Merlin executed, she and Morgana could carry out their schemes unhindered. 

"My lord?" Morgana peered around the king's door to his private chambers. The king, the father who had secretly disowned her and who was nearly soley responsible for her misery, sat in the hard, straight-backed chair at his desk, pouring over treaties and maps and other royal paraphernalia that Morgana knew she would manage one day as Queen of Camelot. Needless to say, she would never tell Uther that. 

"Uther?" Her voice was the essence of innocence with a touch of fear. 

Uther put down his magnifying glass and raised his head, smiling. He stood, beckoning her, and Morgana rushed toward to him. 

"What is it, child?" 

"I- I," she stuttered slightly, putting on a nervous air. 

"Out with it," he urged, setting down his quill as well and guiding her by the elbow to sit at the edge of the four-poster bed. 

"I thought I saw a sorcerer. In the courtyard. I couldn't be sure, but..." It wasn't entirely a lie. She had seen someone – Merlin – cross the courtyard to draw water that afternoon and then later in the halls. But when did lying ever interfere with her conscience? 

Uther tensed beside her and drew her closer. "What did the sorcerer look like?" he demanded. 

"I didn't get a good look, sire. But he was--" she paused trying to think of something. Uther seemed to take her momentary pause as fear of what she had seen. The king reined in his impatience and sat beside his ward, offering what comfort he could in the face of such evils as servants conducting household chores. 

Morgana bit her lip. "It looked like he was searching for something." 

"I shall send out a search party immediately." Uther rose from the bed and snatched a sheaf of parchment from his desk, leaving Morgana to wring her hands on the bed. "Every corner of Camelot will be searched." He now addressed the servant that hovered in the corner of the room. "You there, tell the guards to be vigilant. I shall make an official announcement in the council rooms. This sorcerer will be stopped!" 

When the servant departed with his instructions, Uther turned back to Morgana and she wiped the smirk off her face. "My darling, have nothing to fear. We'll find the sorcerer and bring him to justice; you have my word. But I want you to stay in the castle." 

Morgana just smiled tearfully and took his hand in silent thanks. "Thank you, my lord. If there's anyone who can put a stop to the evil, it's you. You've done so much already." 

Touched, Uther embraced her briefly. "Now if you will excuse me, I must begin to coordinate the search." 

Morgana left the room, a smirk firmly plastered across her face. 

  CHAPTER II

“We have reason to believe you are harbouring a sorcerer.” The guards outfitted in the livery of Camelot stood at the entrance to the court physician’s chambers. Gaius drew his brows together, a slight frown puckering his forehead. 

“Magic is illegal in Camelot. What gives you the idea that I’m housing sorcerers under the very nose of the king?” Gaius clasped his hands together, obscured by the voluminous sleeves of his attire, so the guards would not see his hands shaking. Deep breaths, he reminded himself. They mustn’t suspect anything. 

There was a mild rustling and the guards parted to make way for the prince. “I’m sorry, Gaius,” Arthur said with a shake of his head. “My father has ordered your chambers searched.” He sighed in resignation and turned back to the guards. “Get on with it.” 

“But, sire,” Gaius protested weakly as he was brushed aside. The guards filed into the room, seemingly reluctant to actually rifle though the physician’s things. Colored bottles and mixing bowls lay all over the tables and shelves along with a bubbling red elixir heating over a flame. It looked relatively harmless to the untrained eye, and indeed it was probably was. The guards could hardly read, let alone comprehend the physician’s studies, and so they conducted their search with the superficial air of the ignorant: picking up objects at random, deciding they looked harmless enough, and setting them back down with nary a second thought. Documents were rustled, observation sheets set askew. Old leather bound volumes coughed up dust as their covers were unceremoniously jerked open. 

The door to the little back room swung open with a creak and Merlin poked his head out. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, tilting his head at the frenzy of activity: Gaius standing in the corner by the broom closet, tight-lipped and clearly agitated, and Arthur, hands on hips looking like he was overseeing the most futile task in the kingdom. He probably was. 

Gaius raised his head, shooting Merlin a cautionary look, but it was Arthur who answered for him. 

“The king has caught wind of a sorcerer hiding in Camelot and he has ordered a search of the entire castle for the sorcerer." He waved his hand vaguely around the room. "And for... magical artefacts or any other such evidence that would indicate the practice of magic.” 

Merlin cocked his head. “You seriously think these chambers can fit more than two people?” 

Arthur frowned. “No, Merlin, but my father has ordered a search -- so I’m searching.” He enunciated the last words, patience stretched thin. 

“You’re not searching, the guards are,” Merlin pointed out helpfully, a cheery grin skulking behind his lips. 

“Shut up, Merlin,” came the automatic response. Merlin was about to the close the door when one of the guards put a hand on the latch. 

“You can leave that,” Arthur called, impatient to move on with the search. “There won’t be anything in there.” The guard turned away and obediently left the room with the others in a din of armor and clanking swords. 

Gaius exhaled audibly and collapsed onto his stool. Merlin clattered down the short steps and rushed to get his guardian something calming to drink. 

“That was close.” Merlin ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in all manner of odd directions. “I was doing my chores in my room just then. Heh, if those guards had opened the door anymore, they’d have seen a sight. I --”

“Merlin.” Gaius waved away the rest of Merlin’s babble. “You need to be more careful.” 

“I am careful!” 

“I mean it, Merlin!” he added sharply when Merlin shrugged. “If Arthur ever catches you or anyone else for that matter – and pray it isn’t Uther – they will kill you!” 

“Arthur wouldn’t turn me in, Gaius.” 

The physician gestured with his cup. “Don’t be so sure, Merlin. Arthur’s been raised since birth to hate magic. You must never let him discover your secret!” 

Merlin stared into the little hearth fire, hurt that Gaius doubted Arthur. He knew he shouldn’t tell Arthur yet, but… one day. One day he would. Arthur would understand, Merlin told himself. And if he didn’t, then he wasn’t the friend he thought he was. But it was so difficult! Merlin clenched his fists, and on a whim, his eyes turned to their shade of molten gold that was second nature. The fire in the hearth twisted into a likeness of Kilgharrah. Merlin exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the dragon. Kilgharrah understood his stress better than anyone else because he was a creature of magic too. Gaius was as well.... And he meant well, but there were some things Merlin just couldn’t tell him – wouldn’t tell him – because he did not want to burden Gaius with anymore of his troubles and frustrations. 

Gaius’s expression softened at the dragon in the fire, another reminder of how pure and instinctual Merlin’s magic was. 

“One day I’ll have to tell him, Gaius.” 

The physician nodded almost imperceptibly. 

“But it – it just gets harder and harder with each passing day when I don’t. I’m living a lie! My life would be so much easier if Arthur knew. If my friends knew it too and accepted who I am, I wouldn’t feel quite so alone. I could be myself.” 

“But you cannot reveal your magic yet,” Gaius replied knowingly, a touch of remorse in his old voice. 

Merlin closed his eyes, struggling for a better grip on his emotions. The fire resumed its normal shape. “I’ve accepted that.” But that did not make it easier to shoulder. 

Merlin got up and took a seat across the little table and put his head in his hands. Gaius patted his ward’s dark hair absently and sipped from the little wood cup. The potion on the open flame had all but evaporated, but Gaius ignored it for the time being, not caring that the glass was growing dark with soot. Merlin was hurting and Gaius cared for Merlin more than the young warlock could ever imagine. The minutes dragged on when suddenly, Merlin lifted his head, face a picture of deep thought drawing to a conclusion. 

“Who –” he backtracked. “Arthur said the king heard there was a sorcerer hiding out in Camelot. Who could have told him that?” 

Gaius’s eyebrow stretched towards his hairline. “Unless there is another sorcerer in Camelot,” he began with a touch of sarcasm. 

“Morgana,” Merlin surmised. “She must have said something. But," he frowned, "I haven’t done anything incriminating recently.” 

Gaius chuckled wryly, “Merlin, your very existence incriminates you in Camelot.” 

  CHAPTER III

"Let's have you lazy daisy!" The drapes were thrown open, emitting a piercing dose of sunlight that the crown prince just wasn't ready to greet. 

Arthur grunted and turned his face into the pillows again, mumbling, "What did I tell you about saying that, Merlin?" 

"That I shouldn't. Sorry Arthur," his manservant replied not sounding sorry in the least. Just for kicks, Merlin tugged on the latch and pushed the windows open, letting in a chilling breeze of November air. That certainly woke up the prince; the frigid air hit Arthur's exposed chest, and the prince shot out of bed with a growl and launched himself at Merlin who was quite taken by surprise. 

"Arth-!" His exclamation was muffled as he soon found himself on the floor pinned down by the bulk of the prince. "Mmmphh," he grunted as what he thought might be a pillow smacked into his face. Muttering something about knights being heavy _and_ thick, the manservant managed to worm his way out from underneath Arthur. 

"Idiot," the prince said fondly, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He stood and brushed himself off. "So where's my breakfast?" 

"On the table, sire." Merlin flicked the dust off his shirt and handed Arthur a clean robe to put on while he rooted through the chest of drawers, looking for a clean tunic. The prince took a seat at the table in his chambers and promptly dug into his sausages. 

"So," Merlin ventured innocently, "did your guards nab that sorcerer yet?" 

Arthur stopped chewing. With an audible swallow he put down his fork and said, "No. But we're still searching for him." 

"How do you know it's a him and not a her?" 

The prince made a face and lobbed a hunk of cheese at his servant. "I don't know, _Mer_ lin. It could be a woman I suppose, but for the sake of simplicity, which is something you should understand, I'm calling her a him!" 

"Right." Merlin nodded, barely catching the flying piece of dairy. Because that makes perfect sense, Arthur. 

As though he were eager to change the subject, Arthur brought up another one of his favorites. "Is my armour polished? I'm training my knights today." 

"I'll bring it up. I left it in the armoury last night." 

"Oh, well, see that you do." Arthur took a swig of his wine, sighing loudly and energetically. "And when you're done with that, you can muck out the stables." He grinned, knowing that Merlin detested mucking out his horses. 

"Yes, sire," came the mock cheerful reply. Merlin bowed over a pillow as he made the prince's bed. It looked so soft and Merlin was rather tired. How nice it would be to sleep on that big feather mattress…

As if reading his mind: "Don't get any ideas, Merlin. I don't want your filth all over my sheets." 

"What filth?" Merlin asked, mildly offended. "It's not my fault I can't bathe whenever I want to. Gaius doesn't have a bath tub." 

"You could use mine," Arthur replied simply. Merlin's mouth must have hung open because Arthur went on to say, "Oh, don't give me that look _Mer_ lin. If you are so desperate to bathe, I don't have a strong objection to you using my tub. Just… don't do it when anybody's around and for goodness sake, scrub it out when you're done. Thoroughly," he added. 

Merlin found it in him to bring his jaw up and close his mouth. "Are you feeling all right?" 

"Don't make me withdraw the offer," Arthur said under his breath, rising from his chair and heading towards the changing screen. A few moments later the prince called out, "Help me with these ties, will you, Merlin?" 

Merlin took the leather laces between his fingers and deftly laced up Arthur's tunic. "Why can't you manage this yourself?" 

A faint flush crept up Arthur's neck and he reluctantly held out his right hand to Merlin. A jagged cut beginning on thumb had slashed over several of his fingers, making it painful to bend them. 

Merlin poked at the wound. Arthur frowned at him and yanked his hand back before Merlin could open up the wound any more with his curious prodding. 

"What happened?" 

"I- I was putting on my gloves and -"

"You dropped your sword?" Merlin asked helpfully. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin of course I didn't drop my sword!" An uncomfortable pause. "Okay, yes, I dropped my sword – but if you tell anyone I'll put you in the stocks and make you scrub my floors all over again!" 

"Got it." Merlin grinned, holding up his hands in a sign of surrender. "You got that cut by not dropping your sword." He tsked, then nodded to himself. "You should see Gaius." 

"It's just a scratch." Arthur dismissed it with a wave. "It'll be fine in a day or two." 

"But it's on your right hand. How are you going to use a sword in training today?" 

"I am capable of using my other hand, Merlin. You on the other hand are hopeless with both of your hands!" The prince pushed past him and snatched up his sword from the table. "Just get me a new bandage and I'll be fine. And bring up my armour while you're at it." 

Merlin smirked and darted out of the room to do his prince's bidding. 

He nearly mowed someone down near the staircase. 

"Sorry," he began, but quickly cut himself off when he realized who it was. His expression grew wary and he took a hasty step away, back hitting the stone wall. Morgana glowered at him from behind narrowed mint-green eyes. He could feel her magic bubbling just beyond her barriers and his own itched to lash out against it. 

With another cold glance that sent the warning bells clanging in Merlin's head for the second time in the space of several days, Uther's disowned daughter swept past him in a swish of green silk and vanished around the corner of the landing. Merlin let out the breath that had caught in his throat from the encounter and continued toward the armoury to fetch Arthur's armour and his shield. 

CHAPTER IV

A thin trail of sunlight spread across the floor of the castle armoury. The shields that lay along the wall were obscured in shadow and the array of weaponry that dotted the racks within the room gave off a dull gleam in the faint light. Merlin pushed open the creaking door, flooding the cool room with the torch light from the corridor. 

He left it ajar and crossed the room in a few wide strides to where he had left the prince's armour. No one had disturbed the heap of mail, and the rest of Arthur's armour was strewn haphazardly across the bench. A polishing rag left out by the last servant adorned one of the neighboring benches. Merlin slung Arthur's shield across his back, feeling keenly the weight of the golden dragon. 

"That prat," he mumbled as he struggled to scoop up the rest of the armor. It was unwieldy and by no means light. Grunting, he waddled out of the armory and down the corridor, heading back to Arthur. 

Gwen rounded the corner with a basket of laundry on her hip. Her face lit up upon seeing her friend and she paused in her rounds, setting down her load. 

"Hello Merlin." She smiled. 

"Gwen!" he answered in his chipper voice, shifting the armour in his arms. 

"Got a bit of a handful, have you?" 

Merlin rolled his eyes and cocked his head. "You know I never understood the need to have highly polished plate at all hours of the day. I mean, the other knights don't make their squires polish every inch of metal daily." 

Gwen shrugged, grinning. "Arthur just likes doling out the work." 

"Tell me about it," Merlin agreed. "Well, I've got to get these up to Arthur and then fetch him a bandage." 

"A bandage? Whatever for?" 

Merlin opened his mouth, but no sound came out. "Sorry, I can't tell you. Royal secrets and all that – wouldn't want to tarnish his highness's reputation." 

"Ah," Gwen concluded with a knowing smile, "say no more. I can bring up a bandage for you. I'll only be a minute or two with this laundry." 

"Oh, thanks, Gwen. You're a life saver! I'll just take these up then." He raised his load to indicate. 

The unmistakable clank of metal came up the corridor. Privately, Merlin wondered how the guards ever managed to apprehend criminals if they stomped about making such a racket. It offered ample time to get away. 

A gruff voice ricocheted off the stone walls in the castle. "Stand!" Both Gwen and Merlin froze in their steps, turning quizzically to face the men. Were the guards addressing them? 

Two uniformed men strode forward and roughly took Merlin by his thin arms. Arthur's armour spilled onto the tiled floor with a terrible cacophony of metal-on-stone and the trickling hiss of escaped chain mail. Gwen made a squeaking noise as she was shoved out of the way, into a stone carving. 

"Where are you taking him?" she demanded, shock and anger warring on her face. 

"He has threatened the Prince and the Lady Morgana with dangerous magic," one of the guards replied curtly. 

Gwen set her jaw. "That's absurd! I am the Lady Morgana's maid. If he had, she would have told me!" 

"Gwen," Merlin hissed. He was thankful she was defending him, but she was liable to get herself into a tight situation as well. He thought, perhaps, that her secret relationship with the prince had emboldened her to speak up more, but she was still just a servant. 

Gwen reached for Merlin. "Unhand him!" 

The guards obviously did not like her tone of voice. The one nearest her drew back his hand and slapped her. Gwen fell to the floor, stunned, her hand cradling her cheek. 

Merlin jerked against his captors. "Stop!--" But they silenced him with a blow to the head and dragged him down the corridor. Merlin's boots made sad little squeaking noises against the stone floor as he was dragged around the corner. 

Gwen sobbed, holding her hand against her stinging cheek. Laundry and armour forgotten, she took off down the hallway towards the prince's chambers. There was no way Merlin could have threatened Morgana. Although, Gwen silently wondered if something strange was going on. She shuddered as she remembered the look on Morgana's face when she had been dragged away to the dungeons, accused of the sorcery that had saved her father. No, Morgana did not mean well to any of them anymore, but was her dislike really that strong? What had Merlin ever done to her? 

Gwen's questions remained unanswered. She pounded on Arthur's door not caring who saw her strange behaviour. 

The voice from within sounded bored. "Enter." 

Gwen slipped into the room and leaned against the door for support. The prince kept on speaking, his back to her as he studied the courtyard below. 

"Since when do you ever knock, Merlin? I hope you have my armour polished -- you're late." A sob. The prince spun around; obviously whoever had just knocked on his door was not his manservant. 

"Guinevere!" He took her tear streaked face and the red handprint-shaped mark on her cheek. He was by her side in an instant, bolting the door behind her and drawing her into his arms. "Who did this to you?" 

Gwen shook her head against his chest. "No, no. It's not about me, Arthur." 

"Guinevere, what--"

"They've taken Merlin!" She held herself away from him gently, her palms flush against his chest. Normally, Arthur would have relished the feeling, but something had gone wrong concerning Merlin. 

"Who has?" 

"Your father's guards. They said – they said he had threatened you and Morgana with magic. But I know Merlin would never do that." 

Arthur frowned. Merlin had not threatened him. Merlin was certainly not the sort to threaten anybody, let alone with magic. He was too thin and weak and idiotic and well _Merlin_! "It's all right Guinevere. Everything will be okay. This was all probably some mistake." 

Gwen sniffled a bit, wiping her eyes. Of course, it had to be a mistake. Merlin couldn't be a sorcerer and he certainly wouldn't threaten anybody; he was too kind. But even so, Merlin was hurt and she was afraid for him. Whether or not he was innocent did not matter to Uther if Merlin had been accused of sorcery. 

"Guinevere." Arthur's patient voice fell on her ears like a soft breeze. "I'll take care of this." She nodded mutely. He stepped away towards the door, but Gwen's voice stalled him. 

"Oh, Arthur?" 

"Yes, Guinevere?" 

"I forgot to bring up your bandage. Merlin said you... well no, I mean. He didn't really say anything -- I just assumed -- when he told me he was getting you a bandage. But what I meant is that I was going to bring it up because he had his hands full, but then the guards came and all this and I forgot. Shall I fetch you one before you go?" She paused, catching her breath. 

Arthur smiled at her, amusement dancing in his blue eyes. "My hand will survive a while longer Guinevere, but, thank you." He flexed his fingers painfully, wincing at the motion. He hoped he wouldn't regret the lack of a bandage. Who knew what could happen in his father's throne room. 

Arthur started off down the corridor, Gwen trailing after him, wringing her hands. They were headed for the throne room where Merlin had been taken. 

  CHAPTER V 

_She swept past Merlin on the stairs, nearly colliding with him and only pausing long enough to pin him to the wall with her icy gaze. Smirking, she drifted away, feeling the security that accompanies a well-executed plan._ Executed indeed, _she thought grimly._

Uther's door was open a crack when she arrived at his rooms. She took a moment to prepare herself, bringing tears to her eyes by thinking of all the innocents Uther had slaughtered in the name of justice. Uther would believe them to be tears of fear, but hate and anger were their source. She rubbed at her eyes a few times, smudging the dark lines of kohl before bursting through the door. 

"Morgana!" Uther exclaimed upon seeing her bedraggled appearance. Chest heaving, she hurtled towards him, clinging to his jacket in frightened sobs. "Morgana, what is wrong?" 

She continued on with her charade of near-hysteria until she felt Uther was sufficiently concerned. "My lord," she stammered, stepping away slightly but still shaking. "He threatened me. And he said he was going to kill him and I was so afraid!" She clung to him again, sobbing and smirking, although one could only put it down to her magical abilities to pull both faces simultaneously. 

"Going to kill whom? Who threatened you?" Uther demanded, green eyes a picture of a gale-swept sea. 

"He said he was going to kill Arthur if I said anything." She wiped at her eyes again. "Oh Uther, I saw him doing magic and he threatened to kill me too. And I didn't know who to tell! I was so afraid." 

"Hush now." Uther cradled her against his chest, her face hidden from view. And it was probably better that way. "The sorcerer threatened you? And he is planning on killing Arthur?" 

"Yes, my lord. But I knew I had to tell someone. I can't stand by and watch Arthur die! Especially at the hands of –" Another sob escaped her lips, forced out under its own will. 

"Who was it?" 

Morgana shook her head in disbelief. "I thought he was my friend," she cried. 

"Who was it?" The king repeated, holding her at arm's length and shaking her slightly. 

"Merlin." She burst into tears.

:i:

Now, a good deal more composed, Morgana leaned back in her throne beside Uther. The king was looking testy and imperious and his foot tapped impatiently as he waited for the prisoner to be brought forth. The court had been convened. This was the manservant whom Arthur trusted above all. Uther needed to make an example of the boy for his betrayal. No one threatened his beloved ward or son and got away with it. No one! 

The double doors were flung open and the pikes parted for the little procession of royal guards. In the midst of all the clanking swords came a bleary-eyed manservant, head hanging as he was dragged across the floor to fall to his knees with a grunt in front of the king. Uther rose from his throne and stalked towards Merlin as though he were creeping up on a defenseless animal. In the king's mind, Merlin was less than that. 

Gaius' sharp intake of breath was the only indication of his distress at seeing his precious boy manhandled into the court. What had he done now? 

"Do you know why you're here?" 

Uther paced before Merlin and all Merlin could see were fuzzy shapes of boots moving back and forth across his vision. It was rather hypnotizing and he struggled to keep his eyes open. "Do you know why you are here?" 

Merlin gingerly lifted his head, wincing at the throbbing at the base of his skull. Now he knew what it felt like when he dropped chandeliers on unsuspecting evil-doers. Not that they deserved any less from him. 

Uther's glowering face came into his view. The king looked like he was ready to erupt, his patience wearing thin. Merlin swiveled his eyes around briefly and saw something Gaius-shaped looking very distraught. He blinked and caught sight of Gwen, tear tracks on her dark skin, slipping through the servant's door and hurrying to Gaius' side. She gave him a small smile of encouragement which he tried to return. 

And then he saw _her_ and his heart hardened. She was sitting like a cold alabaster statue, flawless and fair against the dark wood of her little throne. A blaze of emeralds highlighted the pale skin at her throat, so like his own, and he shot her a look of quiet anger in answer to her own smoldering eyes. 

Uther took in their little exchange and took Merlin's stormy blue eyes for confirmation of his crimes. He glanced concernedly at Morgana -- she was so brave to sit there before her tormentor -- before returning his attention to the young man at his feet. A threat to the kingdom was grave, but a threat to those he loved fiercely was unforgivable. 

"No? Well, then I shall tell you." 

Merlin remained silent even when Uther loomed above him. "You have threatened the Lady Morgana and your master, the Prince of Camelot. You have been found guilty of using dark magic and enchantments for your own godforsaken ends and are thus condemned to a death by fire." Uther's voice was low, but his barely concealed anger made the air vibrate like a hive of bees. A father's wrath was truly terrible to behold. Merlin wished he wasn't the one who had to behold it. 

There was a muted commotion in the halls without the throne room, but nothing compared to the tension boiling between the king of Camelot and the suspected sorcerer, Merlin. 

Gwen burst into a fresh wave of tears at the death sentence. Gaius patted her hair absently, his attention still fixed on the scene playing out before them. With a narrowed and surreptitious glance, Gaius observed Morgana. Yes, she was a picture of feigned emotions: fear, betrayal, anger. But Gaius detected an undercurrent of a very real emotion: the wild elation of retribution that she was just barely containing. Gaius wondered fleetingly if he wouldn't be able to slip something into her sleeping draughts. But no, killing the king's daughter — no, ward, no daughter – was hardly the right thing to do. And it wouldn't save Merlin. If anything it would only make the problem worse. 

"What have you to say for yourself?" 

"I would never," Merlin said, finding his voice, "harm Arthur." 

"You were on first name terms with the prince, were you?" Uther's frown deepened, creasing his brow and the scar that ran across his forehead. "You wheedled your way into his confidence, played on his sense of compassion for a lowly piece of work such as yourself. And now you would seek to kill him and anyone else who stands in your path. Is that right?" 

Merlin shook his head. "Your highness, I would never let any harm come to the prince." 

"So you say." Uther snorted, taking a step back. "Unless that harm originates from you! You are a sorcerer! Do you deny it?" 

Merlin's heart rate increased and he noticed a flicker of interest pass over Morgana. Well, the king was halfway right. But it didn't matter what Merlin said. Nothing would change the king's mind now, not with a witness like Morgana. Merlin had any intention of dying, and he didn't think Uther could actually burn him unless they took him by surprise and contained his magic. But one way or another, after this he would never be allowed back in Camelot. He might as well burn, for his heart would surely burn and die if he were forever parted from those he loved. Was this written in his destiny? To lose everyone he held dear? 

Merlin blinked back the hot tears gathering in the corners of his eyes and nodded firmly. He had to deny it to the end for the king was accusing him of _dark_ magic. Those were his exact words, and Merlin did not practice dark magic. If his accusations were taken literally, then they were entirely false. Merlin felt a faint tug of relief to know that he was skirting the truth by a hair's breadth. He managed to rise to his knees and look the king in the face. 

"I am innocent of practising dark magic, and I have never threatened the prince, or the Lady Morgana," he added bitterly. 

Uther shook his head sadly. "Still you deny it, sorcerer. Your very nature makes you inclined to deceit and betrayal of all the good in this world. Very well. But before you die, you will tell me what foul deeds you were plotting and who your allies are. If you fail to disclose this information you will suffer greatly before you meet the pyre. Take him away! I will question him after he's had some time in the dungeons." 

The guards dragged Merlin to his feet again and started out. Merlin struggled in their grasp instinctively. Their hands were like vices, squeezing his arms and his jacket. One unnecessarily latched onto his ear and it was all he could do not to throw them back into the walls in a surge of anger. However, that would only further incriminate him. Before the little party could reach the double doors, the doors were flung open. 

"Arthur!" Merlin's head snapped up and he stared. The cause of the earlier commotion in the hallway was made plain. Arthur was struggling violently against several guards pinning him back against the walls. The guards were yelling ineffectually – something about the king's orders for him not to attend the audience for his own safety. More likely to keep him from doing something rash. 

"Merlin!" Arthur's face was red with anger and he renewed his thrashing. "Get off me!" He snarled at the guards. "I command you!" 

Uther rose from his throne. 

"Subdue him and bring him here," the king ordered. Several more guards piled on, tackling the prince to the floor where a writhing mass of bodies created a scene. Privately, Merlin was proud that it took so much strength to restrain the prince. But it didn't change the fact that now he was one ally fewer. He was taken away to the dungeons before the scene could escalate anymore, the throne room doors slamming shut, cutting off the din as he was dragged down the corridor and away from Arthur. 

  CHAPTER VI

Arthur's boots pounded rapidly against the corridor tiles. Merlin you idiot, he growled. But the prince was actually quite concerned. This wasn't the first time his manservant had been mixed up in magical business. 

But the threats? 

Well Arthur knew for certain that Merlin hadn't been dealing out death threats, especially not to him. 

"The man couldn't threaten a flower," Arthur scoffed under his breath. Gwen hurried along after him at a respectable distance and slipped into the throne room by way of the servants' door. Arthur continued around the bend until the double doors appeared. He started towards them. That was usually the royal signal for the guards to open the doors, but when this did not occur and the spears remained baring his way, Arthur pulled up short and frowned. 

I'll do it myself then, he thought, with a glance at the guards. 

"Sire"--the guards moved to stand in front of him--"the king has forbidden your entry." 

"What? What the hell are you talking about? My manservant's been falsely accused, I need to…" he sputtered, groping about for a plausible explanation to downplay any charges laid against Merlin, "to get him back so he can polish my armour again! I found it had been dumped all over the floor because you lot dragged him away and Morgana's maidservant had to bring it all to my chambers. Now let me pass!" 

He knew his excuse made him sound like a prat, but who cared? Merlin told him that enough already. Arthur swallowed at the idea that he might never be called a prat again if Merlin were condemned to death. The guards held their ground. 

"We've orders from the king," the man on the left said stubbornly. 

"Well _I'm_ ordering you now. The king is in there and I'm out here. I'll be the one to thrash you if you don't get out of the way." They didn't move. 

Arthur took a handful of one guard's tunic and punched the daylights of him. The other took a step back and began to lower his spear, then realizing how that might appear he tossed it aside and stood in Arthur's way again. Was it illegal to attack the prince if you were only following the King's orders? Or would this – he ducked a punch and called for help – be counted as self defense because Arthur was now attacking him? The guard's back was against the wooden doors and Arthur gripped his tunic, thick from the mail he wore beneath, and was about to haul him aside when three more armoured guards came racing up the stairs. On orders from the King, they dragged Arthur off the guard and attempted to restrain him, pushing him against the far wall and only barely dodging the prince's fists. It was no simple task. 

Arthur could hear his father's voice, pitched dangerously low and he knew Merlin must be terrified with an interrogation from his father. He clenched his teeth and kicked out at the guard nearest him, using the one holding his arms as leverage. The man doubled over with a grunt and Arthur ripped himself free, aiming a blow at his former captor's face. 

He cursed when his aim was slightly off, fingers smashing into flesh and a metal helmet. He had been using his right hand, his injury forgotten in the rush of adrenaline that accompanied the impromptu ambush by his father's own men; now it pulsed with a vengeance, blood welling between his fingers. The guard he had punched, thinking he had caused the blood hesitated for a moment. Surely it was a crime to injure the prince so! But the instinct of self-preservation took over and he threw down his spear to dodge a well-placed kick to the shins from the prince. Arthur wasn't first knight for nothing. 

The squabble drew more guards, all under the same orders, and soon Arthur found himself hauled back against the far wall, a veritable fence of Camelot's guards hemming him in. He kept fighting. He had to get in and plead Merlin's innocence. He wouldn't let it be said that his friend was condemned to die because he couldn't get past a few guards! He knew very well that once his father had passed judgment on a suspected sorcerer there was little hope of reversing it. Arthur needed access to the throne room now. 

As if an answer to his prayers, the double doors swung open. 

More guards. Arthur groaned but then he saw something blue and red struggling between them. 

"Arthur!" His manservant stared at the scene before him: guards everywhere – both restraining the prince and lying on the floor, apparently unconscious. He couldn't keep back the smile that came from seeing the destruction Arthur could wreck when the mood took him. 

"Let me go," Arthur hissed. 

The guard nearest him replied impatiently, "We are under the king's orders! It's for your own safety, my lord!" He struggled to get the words out as Arthur's elbow was at his throat while the prince was fending off other guards. 

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted. He desperately redoubled his efforts before they dragged Merlin away. "Get off me! I command you!" He shouted again, ineffectively. 

No, no, no. The guards that held Merlin began to depart, taking his best friend with them. 

"Subdue him and bring him here." Arthur went cold at his father's stern command but he did not yield. Four more guards exited the throne room to join in the foray. Their added weight counterbalanced the writhing group and the men collapsed in a pile of heaving bodies with the prince pinned beneath them. 

It was awhile before the tangle of spears, arms, helmets, and legs sorted itself out, but Arthur emerged from the heap with only a few bruises, one bloody hand, and a foul temper. The guards did not fare quite so well, some having accidental injuries from their own weaponry. 

The audience room was cleared with a wave. Everyone discreetly left, save for Morgana. Gaius filed out with a very stiff back that had nothing to do with his age. He shot the prince a worried and imploring look. Gwen shuffled after Gaius, keeping her head down to hide the tears on her face. She brushed past Arthur on her way out and it was all Arthur could do not to catch hold of her and comfort her. 

"Arthur," Uther addressed him calmly, showing no trace of his earlier anger. "An assassination plot has been foiled, one that could have ended your--"

"Why was I not allowed in the room?" 

"--life as well as Morgana's," Uther continued, ignoring the interruption. "I always suspected something about your manservant, Arthur. That mental affliction of his must have been a cover for his magic. Now he finally showed his true colors. He betrayed your trust and he betrayed this kingdom. He proved as much just now with his defiance." Arthur was about to protest, but the king raised his voice. "If it wasn't for Morgana's bravery in the face of the evil, you two could have lost your lives. I would do everything in my power never to let that happen," he said with sudden hardened emotion. "You are my only son, Arthur. And you," he placed a hand on Morgana's shoulder, "are my beloved ward, whom I love as if you were my own." 

"Why was I excluded from the audience? He is _my_ manservant." 

"Was, Arthur. He is your manservant no longer. We will find a suitable replacement with all speed." 

"But father," Arthur said, not letting the matter go, "Merlin never threatened me. I don't know what imbecile told you that!" 

Uther raised his brow. 

Morgana lifted her chin in defiance. "I'm sorry Arthur if you think me an imbecile, but I'm telling the truth." Her voice softened upon his incredulous look. "I know, I thought he was a friend too. But I saw him casting enchantments." 

"Impossible," Arthur said. "Merlin isn't an evil sorcerer. He would never--"

"Enough, Arthur!" Uther thundered. "He may not have threatened you directly, but he was a threat in of itself. And when Morgana discovered his secret he turned on her. She risked her life coming and telling me this information. You should be grateful!" 

"But that just can't be right," Arthur sputtered. 

"Arthur," Morgana said, forcing a sad lilt to her voice, "I know it's difficult to accept." She put her hand to her mouth as though she were holding back tears. "But he did. He said he'd kill me if I ever revealed his plan." She rose from her throne and laid her hands on his with a hurt expression. "But you're like a brother to me and if anyone in my family is in danger, I will do everything I can to protect them. Though this hurts more than I can say." 

Arthur shook his head and stepped away. "No, I won't believe any of this until I can speak to Merlin myself. In private," he added with a stern glance at his father and Morgana. He turned to leave, but Uther's deep voice called him back. 

"I cannot allow that." 

"And why not? Merlin is my servant and I have a right to question him!" 

"Oh he will be questioned. But not by you. He meant to kill you, Arthur, do you honestly think I'd let you anywhere near him?" 

"But father," Arthur turned back, pacing the floor, "you can't seriously think that Merlin is practising dark magic with the intention of killing me! He's saved my life more than once! And have you forgotten he's saved yours as well?" 

Uther nodded. "But perhaps he was only biding his time. Have you considered that? Sorcerers are cunning, Arthur. They rarely face down an enemy with honor - not when subterfuge and magic are their province." He shook his head. "One cannot pretend to know the mind of every sorcerer. but to know one is to know them all. They are evil incarnate, Arthur, and there is nothing you can do. The boy will be executed once we have extracted what intelligence we can from him." 

Extracted what intelligence… Awhile ago, Arthur might have laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all. But not now. Merlin was locked up in the castle dungeons and had an appointment with the pyre. 

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Morgana said again. "Merlin was always such a good friend to me." 

Arthur glared at her, still having trouble with the notion that Merlin was evil. He just couldn't be…

"I just can't accept that until I've spoken with him." 

"What, so he can take that opportunity to kill you?" Morgana accused. That isn't a half bad idea, she thought, behind her moss green eyes. Oh Sister, wait until I tell you how things have unfolded…

"No, so I can find out from him what the truth is!" 

"You don't trust us, Arthur? We're your family!" 

Uther said softly, barely a whisper: "He must have enchanted you." 

Arthur spun around, "Sorry, what was that?" 

"The dark sorcerer Merlin must have enchanted you into feeling … companionship for him. And now he seeks to lure you to his cell to kill you himself." 

Arthur gawped. 

"Naturally you wouldn't know if you were enchanted or not," the king mused, waving it off with a gesture. "I cannot assume any of your rash actions are your own until the boy is dead. Which he will be within the week." 

  CHAPTER VII

It couldn't be said that Merlin had a boring life. Doing chores for Arthur one minute, being sentenced to death the next. And now where were they going? 

Merlin grunted in pain as the guards tugged him down the steps. He was capable of walking under his own power now, thank you very much. He was at wit's end by the time they approached the stairway leading to the dungeons. 

"Let go of me," he snapped, jerking his arm and glaring at a generic helmet-clad guard. He received a wary pause (he was supposed to be a highly dangerous character after all) and then a slap to the face. 

But the guards obliged him and released his arms. Without warning, they shoved him, sending Merlin tumbling down the two flights of steps. Everything was spinning and he was aware of a new painful sensation with each tumble he took on the hard stone stairs. Merlin landed in a twisted heap at the foot of the steps in an awkward heap, wheezing painfully. 

The guards took their time descending the staircase. The leading man gingerly stepped over the slim body, however the other guards were not so graceful. Boot prints mottled the blue tunic and the warlock was hoisted once more and flung like a sack of wheat into a cell at the end of the row. 

"It's no more than 'e deserves," muttered one, kicking at the rushes and watching the clouds of dust settle again in the cell. "Foolish enough to try to kill the crown prince." 

"Aye," the second one sneered. "Bloody little sorcerer. Scrawny thing, that. Dun know 'ow 'e managed to pull it off." 

"He's not gonna pull off anything now. Not in our dungeons!" 

His companion glanced at him oddly, but only shrugged. 

They left to head back to their posts in the upper part of the castle. The dungeon guard rotation was due any moment and the sorcerer wasn't in any shape to attempt to break free. They had made certain of it -- orders from the King and all that. 

The floor of the cell was beginning to take on some crimson tones. Blood oozing from several cuts along Merlin's frail-looking body dotted the rushes. His pale skin had gone pallid from shock and was beginning to color with splotches of yellow and purple. Merlin gasped, eyelids fluttering. The guards had finally left. But where did that leave him? 

He couldn't lift his head to examine the damage, nor did he particularly wish to see himself in such a state. From the impact of the steps, Merlin figured he resembled something close to one of Gaius's fake troll potions, or at best a child's finger-painting masterpiece, such were the bruises upon his fair skin. He dropped his head back into his arms and lay on his stomach. It hurt to breathe, hurt to move, hurt to think about doing magic to heal himself. 

For now, all he could do was sleep. But Gaius's knowledgeable voice echoed in his head telling him not to fall asleep if there was the chance he had a concussion. Merlin groaned and winced and willed his eyes to stay open. His head was throbbing terribly. It felt like Kilgharrah was thrashing about in his skull, trampling his brain to bits in the process. 

Before he knew it, he had fallen into unconsciousness. 

:i:

"What do you think they'll do to him, Gaius?" 

The physician's chambers seemed empty without a Merlin to fill it. Gwen put on a pot of hot water and sat wringing her hands in the folds of her skirts. It had been nearly an hour since Merlin had been carted off in the hands of the guards and Arthur had gained entrance to the room. Gwen knew that plenty of horrible things could have befallen Merlin in the space of an hour. She sighed and stared impatiently at the water in the little cauldron, the word _torture_ ringing in her ears. 

"Staring won't make it boil faster, Gwen," Gaius admonished lightly – unless you were Merlin, then it certainly would - and took a seat at the rickety table. With a sweep of his arm, he cleared a space large enough for tea and beckoned to the maidservant who was so visibly upset. "I'm sure that Merlin is coping with all this, Gwen. He is more resourceful than he looks." 

"It's just," she stammered, feeling hot tears gathering in her eyes, "I can't believe those accusations that the king leveled against him. Merlin wouldn't threaten anyone – least of all Arthur." 

Gaius nodded in assent. "Of course he wouldn't. Merlin loves Arthur more than anything. He would gladly die in the prince's place." 

"Then you believe the king is wrong?" 

"Well Merlin is certainly not an evil sorcerer, Gwen!" Gaius said harshly. Gwen hung her head. Of course Merlin wasn't an evil sorcerer, what was she thinking? 

But why on earth would anyone want to accuse Merlin of something so terrible? Gwen called up an image of Merlin grinning at her from the stocks, his disarming smile and lighthearted attitude making her heart flutter at that first meeting. Merlin was such a kind man and there was no way he was evil. The king had simply been misinformed by someone. Gwen rested her chin on the backs of her hands and thought of her mistress. If Merlin's story was true and he had not threatened Morgana and Arthur (Gwen was certain he had not), then that meant Morgana had been lying to the king. Gwen scowled at a knot on the wooden table. Nothing made sense anymore. 

The water was boiling in the pot now, mimicking to the turmoil of the old physician and the young maidservant. Gwen pulled the small cauldron off the flames and set two wooden mugs steeping with mint and chamomile. The soothing aroma floated through the room like a warm caress. Gwen deposited the mugs on the table and sat opposite Gaius, who added a bit of brandy to each mug. The two sipped at their tea in silence, contemplating the strange course of events. 

"I shouldn't have snapped at you," Gaius said after each had made a significant dent in their tea. Gwen only shrugged, not really bothered by it anymore and knocked back the remaining liquid in an enormous gulp. Gaius' eyebrow climbed up his forehead. Gwaine would be impressed, he thought wryly. 

"What can we do, Gaius? We can't let Uther kill Merlin." She clenched her fists beneath the table. When is he going to stop slaughtering innocent people? A flush crept into her cheeks as memories of her father assailed her. _Uther takes a complete leave of his senses whenever magic is brought up. And now Morgana is the one encouraging the king to execute someone. She's usually the reasonable one! It doesn't add up!_

She slammed her fist into the underside of the table, upsetting Gaius' tea and causing a tremor to run through the pottery bowls lining the edges. Gwen dashed the tears from her eyes, but they wouldn't stop flowing. Standing abruptly, almost knocking over the stool, she paced around the small chambers and up the short steps looking for privacy in her outburst. 

Gaius looked after her sadly, feeling much the same. However he endeavored to keep a lid on his emotions for the sake of Gwen and Merlin. He shuddered to think how the prince had reacted to all this. 

Gaius sighed and rose from the table. Best to busy himself with work until the situation cooled down a bit. Perhaps he would be able to visit Merlin in the dungeons later that evening. Take some food or medicine with him. It always terrified him when Merlin was in danger. In fact, he had a mind to go to Uther and tell him it was he, Gaius, who had threatened Morgana. But Morgana had told the king herself it had been Merlin and Gaius's own appeal would be overlooked. Uther might even execute him too for defending and harbouring Merlin; who know how the king's foul mood would cause him to react? A threat to his children was like a threat to his own person. Coincidentally, Gaius felt much the same way about Merlin, yet he was powerless to do anything but ride out the worst of the situation until an alternative presented itself. It seemed as though he might have a few more days with Merlin. The king intended to question Merlin before his execution. Uther, of course, would find nothing of assassination attempts. _Oh my boy_ , Gaius thought sadly. 

The familiar creak of a door interrupted Gaius' dark thoughts. He lifted his head, foolishly expecting Merlin to pop out, but what he had not expected to see was Gwen, who had vanished within Merlin's chambers moments ago. Her eyes were still red and puffy from crying, but she had gained control of herself once more. But concern for Gwen's state of mind fled when he saw what she held in her hands. 

"…Gaius? Is this..." 

It was Merlin's magic book. 

  CHAPTER VIII

The windows were flung wide open and the cold air ruffled Arthur's hair as he lay sprawled across his royal mattress. His head ached fiercely from the recent debacle in the throne room. Uther's voice was a knell in his mind. _He's enchanted you._

No. Arthur rubbed at his face. Merlin had most definitely not enchanted him. Merlin was loyal to a fault and he would never harm him. Arthur rolled onto his stomach and let his head hang off the edge of the bed. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears and his eyes began to ache, but he didn't change positions. 

The only way to clear up this mess for sure was to speak with Merlin. He would have to find a way to sneak into the dungeons without detection. Obviously Merlin wasn't going to kill him – the servant didn't even have magic. Arthur laughed grimly. Merlin with magic. Not possible, he thought. If his manservant had magic he most certainly wouldn't be in Camelot and he most certainly wouldn't be a servant. The sheer idea of Merlin having magic was like suggesting Morgana was evil! 

Arthur grunted and heaved a sigh that shook the bed frame. Merlin was lying alone in one of the castle's cold cells because Arthur hadn't been able to plead his innocence in time. The prince groaned at the look on Merlin's face as he had been dragged away from him. The image had been burned onto his retinas, and just like seeing a lightning strike, Merlin resurfaced each time he blinked. As much as he hated to admit it, the prince's desire to see his manservant safe went beyond the petty need of having someone to clean up after him. Any servant could do that and in fact one already had this afternoon. Arthur missed Merlin's cheeky remarks and insults. Merlin had been taken away not a few hours before and already he felt as though his manservant, his friend, had been gone for days. Arthur tugged at the laces on his tunic as though that would somehow close up the gap in his heart. His best friend was suffering and he was lying about in his chambers. Suddenly, the bed didn't seem that soft anymore and Arthur nimbly vaulted to his feet. 

Then it occurred to him that this might be slightly more complicated than he originally thought. Who had told his father of the death threats? Morgana had. That much he knew. And she had seemed genuinely upset and hurt at Merlin's betrayal. But, Arthur was tempted to bash his head into a wall, Merlin wouldn't kill anybody! Nothing made sense. If Merlin was innocent, Morgana was lying. But if Morgana wasn't lying then Merlin was very dangerous indeed. Arthur had trouble stomaching that. 

Morgana was distressed at the moment and had locked herself in her chambers. Arthur strapped on his sword and headed for the court physician's rooms. If he was going to speak with Merlin and check up on him, he'd need back up. 

:i:

Gaius froze at his work table and stood like a carved statue as Gwen descended the stairs. It seemed to take ages, but she finally stood beside him, the book clutched in her hands. Why had Merlin been so careless as to leave his book out like that? Anyone might have stumbled upon it. Thank goodness it had been Gwen and not Uther. Gaius was grateful for small mercies. 

But small mercies or not, the elderly physician was now faced with something he had only ever dreamed of and dreaded. Gwen didn't speak; she kept her eyes locked on the leathery cover. 

Gaius placed a gentle but firm hand on her back and guided her onto a stool. She didn't object and sank down, her face a blank mask. 

"Guinevere." Gaius tried to keep his voice steady. He fiddled with the hem of his sleeve and looked at her again. Her gaze was distracted but she was clearly bursting with questions. There was no point in denying it. He knew that Gwen knew. He took a deep breath that rattled his lungs with the effort of his pretense of relative calm. But he didn't know what to say. It was not his secret to divulge and yet here he was betraying the young man he thought of like a son. 

"I really shouldn't be the one to tell you about all this." 

Gwen nodded. "Merlin--" her voice was hoarse from crying, "he – he," she inhaled sharply, "he saved my father's life." 

Gaius gaped. That was the very last thing he had expected to hear from her. Accusations, yes; questions, hoards of them; tears, more than likely. But this? The physician drew his brows together and gently opened the book to the page in which Gwen's hand was tucked. It was the magic poultice Merlin had made to cure Gwen's father of the afanc's terrible water curse. A small tear drop fell onto the page. 

"And that's not all he's done," she whispered, though more to herself than to Gaius. She wiped her eyes and flipped to some of the bookmarked pages. Gwen stared down at the spell book's illuminated pictures of creatures and enchantments, recalling the sorcerers and the beasts Arthur had faced with Merlin at his side. All the magical threats defeated, all this time it had been Merlin. "We've been so ungrateful, Gaius. I've been so ungrateful." 

Gaius sputtered a bit and would have flapped his hands a bit in excitement had he not restrained himself at the last moment. He truly did not know what to say. Gwen glanced up sharply and shut the book with a loud thump. "He's innocent, Gaius. If he's done all of this for Camelot and for Arthur, there is no way he could ever be evil." She got to her feet and started for the door. 

"Gwen, where are you going? You're not going to tell the king!" 

"Of course not!" She spun around. "I would never betray Merlin. Unlike someone else," she added angrily, tears prickling in her eyes. 

"Are you speaking of your mistress, the lady Morgana?" Gaius asked tentatively. Gwen nodded firmly. "You cannot confront her with these accusations, Gwen! I know you have your suspicions, but she is the king's ward and anything said against her will mean certain death for you." 

The door opened. "What will mean certain death?" 

Gwen whipped around at the smooth voice belonging to Camelot's prince. 

"Nothing, sire," Gaius said quickly. Gwen opened and closed her mouth like a very adorable fish and glared at Gaius. 

"You're mistaken, Gaius," Arthur said rather defensively. "Anything that could mean certain death for Guinevere concerns me as well." He strode into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. 

He has to know! Gwen mouthed silently to Gaius, who firmly shook his head. Arthur frowned between the two, reading Gwen's lips. 

With a sigh, "If you two will not tell me voluntarily, I will have to order you. If this is about Merlin, it is imperative that you tell me all you know. He needs our help!" 

Gwen took Arthur by the arm and led him to a seat. _This can't be good_ , Arthur thought, _she wants me to sit down. Next she's going to ask me to put my sword in the corridor._

"Could you take off your sword, Arthur? Please?" He grimaced. 

"I'm not going to do bodily harm to either of you no matter what you may say," Arthur said patiently. Gwen and Gaius gave him twin dubious looks but gave up trying to disarm him. 

It was Gwen who brought forth the evidence. The thick book of spells was dropped into the prince's lap and he bit back a yelp from the sudden intrusion. 

"Merlin is not evil, sire," Gaius cautioned. 

"I know he isn't," Arthur said, looking confused. He couldn't read the title of the book; it was some strange old language he wasn't familiar with. 

"What is this?" 

He opened to a random page and saw more gibberish crowding the vellum. "I can't read any of it." 

Gwen turned the book around and stepped back. "Better, my lord?" 

Arthur grunted, "Much, thanks," as a bright flush crept up his neck. Even with the book right side up, he still couldn't understand the words. But he could see the illustrations. Griffins, cups, dragons. 

"This is a book of magic." 

He glanced up at his two friends. Gwen was dithering and Gaius was doing a remarkably skilled impression of a castle statue. 

"This is," he paused, drawing the obvious conclusion, "Merlin's book of magic." 

Gwen hopped to his side and flipped to a marked page. "But look Arthur. He's never hurt anyone in Camelot." She pointed out the page with the magic poultice. "He saved my father from the afanc's tarnished water. And look what else he's done! Brae- oh, I don't know - but for that griffin! It wasn't Lancelot. Er, well it was partly Lancelot." 

Arthur looked up, addressing the physician. "Do you mean to tell me, Gaius, that when Merlin burst into the council room after the afanc, claiming to be a sorcerer that he was telling the truth?" 

Arthur threw his hands in the air at Gaius' reluctant nod. "Has he any sense of self-preservation?" 

"Sire, erm, that's just how Merlin is. He is selfless and cares only for others." 

"What else has Merlin done without my knowledge?" the prince demanded. 

The sun was setting on the first day of Merlin's imprisonment. It took several more hours for Gaius to explain to Arthur and Gwen the extent of Merlin's good deeds and his idiotic instinct to put his life on the line, carefully editing and omitting certain parts such as dragons and destiny and dubious cups of life that Merlin may or may not have mastered. But when they finished, with Gwen stifling a yawn, Arthur arrived at a very disconcerting realization: he had never quite managed to kill a magical creature on his own. 

  CHAPTER IX 

The following evening, Gaius sat hunched over by the fire fiddling with his mortar and pestle. 

"Gaius." Gwen came up beside him. "What's the matter?" 

The elderly physician laughed curtly. "Oh, it's really nothing to trouble yourself over, my dear." 

Gwen's stern face appeared and she put her hands on her hips. "Gaius." 

She didn't receive an answer for several moments. The fire sizzled and popped as the bits of grease dripped into the flames. Gwen was staying with Gaius to offer her support and comfort to the physician. He was in danger of losing his adoptive son and she her best friend. They needed each other. Gwen reached around him and turned the pheasant on the spit. Arthur had gone hunting the morning after learning of Merlin's magic. Gwen assumed he had gone to blow off some steam by shooting cute, furry, little animals. Who knew why that made him feel better? ("It's good fun, Gwen!") But it did soften her heart towards his sport when he deposited a plump bird in her arms to cook for supper. Said bird was nearly finished roasting. 

"I feel that," Gaius began, still tantalized by the flames, "I've betrayed him." 

Gwen knelt down on the little rug and took his hands. "No. Betrayed whom? Surely not Merlin." 

Gaius nodded. "Ever since he came here, I had warned him that he must never tell anyone his secret. It is difficult for one without magic to understand," he gave Gwen an apologetic look, "but in Uther's Camelot, it is a terrible burden to have to hide who you are. That was his closest, guarded secret." 

Gwen nodded at him to keep going. 

"And I," he picked up the pestle again, "I should not have been the one to tell you both. It was not my secret to divulge." 

Gwen shook her head. "But it was necessary Gaius. We had to know. If there were the slightest chance of saving him, we had to know. You did the right thing," she assured him upon seeing his still-dubious expression. "Merlin will understand." 

"I hope you're right Gwen," Gaius said, pushing himself to his feet. "I fear it will not be easy for Merlin to cope with all of this... knowing." 

"Then it's imperative that we find a way to speak with him," Gwen said firmly in what Gaius felt was a very accurate imitation of the crowned prince. He nodded and shuffled off to prepare some herbal tea while Gwen set to carving up the bird. 

:i:

The sun had set on Merlin's first night in the dungeons of Camelot. It was one sunset too many for the bruised man that sat hunched in the corner of the cell. After he'd awakened from his fit of exhaustion and injury, the guards had clapped him in irons. Merlin could still feel the vibrations that ran up his arm from the hammer on the anvil as the manacles were pounded around his wrists in the impromptu forge set up for that very purpose. He rubbed the skin, gingerly feeling his raw wrists beneath the harsh metal. The manacles chaffed something awful and Merlin ached to ease his pain with magic, but his head was still throbbing. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the freezing stones. It was going to be a very long night. 

The next morning, Merlin was awakened in a more pleasant manner by a familiar voice. Arthur. He rolled over in the straw, turning his head towards the sound that came from somewhere above him. His body protested as he sat up, blinking in the dull morning light. Arthur? Where was he? Merlin managed to stand, using the wall for support. The little grill, high on the dungeon wall, led to the outer courtyard and Merlin could hear the voices filtering down. 

Arthur was grumbling about something. Merlin screwed up his face and cast a weak spell to augment the sounds and sure enough, he heard his prince snapping orders to one of the castle servants. A replacement, no doubt. Merlin slumped a bit. His position had already been filled. Arthur must have realized the truth about his magic and given up on him. But how could he possibly believe Morgana's lies? The witch – this time he didn't hesitate to call her that – had twisted his closest friend against him. He slid down the wall into a sitting position, still listening with the aid of magic to the conversations in the courtyard. 

A bootlicker. Merlin could hear the boy groveling before Arthur and he allowed himself a smug grin for a few moments. It vanished when he remembered he had been replaced. The familiar sounds of Arthur's horse came clopping along the stones. The prince was going for a hunt, but the servant was not coming with him. 

Merlin wondered why Arthur didn't bring his new manservant along. He always brought Merlin with him. Did he not fancy the new man's company then? Merlin hoped that was the case. He really didn't know what he would do if Arthur abandoned him. 

But hadn't he? Arthur had always come straight away to bail him out of the dungeons before. Given, this time his "crime" was a bit more serious, but accusations notwithstanding, Arthur had always come to see him. Merlin thought that was because he had cared for him. Clearly, the prince wanted nothing to do with magic users. A small noise of despair filled the dungeon cell and Merlin bit his quavering lower lip to still it. 

He was thinking of Gaius and Gwen when the heavy boots came stomping down the steps. "Oh no," he groaned. Uther, flanked by several guards, materialized in his field of vision. Merlin turned his head away, not wanting the king to see how weak he was or how angry. He closed his eyes to hide the telltale golden shimmer as he released the spell until the magical urge passed. 

"Not so powerful now are you." Uther's voice cut like a knife in the tension filled space. The guards stood back at a respectful distance, watching the goings-on. "Not that you ever were. A mere servant. Tell me sorcerer, if you wanted my son dead, why suffer as a dogsbody?" 

_Oh, dogsbody is it?_ Merlin frowned, slightly offended. 

"Why not simply ambush him and be done with it?" 

Merlin gathered his wits and looked the king in the eye. "I have never tried to harm Prince Arthur." He hoped his voice was steady. He would have to stay strong if he were to survive this and remain as Arthur's manservant, no matter how futile that future seemed. Merlin didn't know what he'd do if he were made to leave Camelot. Uther wouldn't exile him – he'd execute him! But Merlin had no intention of going to the pyre. A fugitive he would be. A hunted man. He supposed he could seek out Gwaine and Lancelot or leave with the Great Dragon Kilgharrah. But what about the other side of the coin? He couldn't abandon him in Camelot even if it meant his death. Merlin felt the uncertainty and the fear creeping in at the edge of his mind, but he firmly pushed them away. He needed to focus, but Uther Pendragon was still watching him. Did he notice his name _meant_ Great Dragon? Shut up, Merlin, he told himself again. Stay focused. 

"Do you admit to using magic and enchantments for your own ends?" 

Well that bit was rather true, Merlin thought. "His own ends" included making Arthur king in a peaceful manner. However that was becoming increasingly difficult with Uther breathing down his neck every waking moment and being confined to a cell in manacles. 

He settled for a safer answer. "I am not a sorcerer." 

No, he thought, he was not a sorcerer. He was a warlock. Just a stretch of the truth, really. Semantics. 

"You dare to lie to your king!" 

Merlin longed for the guise of Dragoon. There was so much he wanted to say to Uther. 

Merlin kept his gaze steady and did not reply, letting Uther answer his own accusation. 

"The lady Morgana was also threatened by your malignant ways." 

"She was not," Merlin replied. How much longer is he going to question me? 

"Do you mean to tell me she was lying?" 

Merlin guessed that was meant as a rhetorical question and did not hazard a response. He was right. Uther answered it himself. "Morgana does not lie about such things! She thought you to be a friend, although goodness knows why one would want to befriend a servant such as yourself, and you betrayed her. Do you deny it?" 

_No._ Merlin dropped his head in his hands, feeling his insides clench. _I did betray her and it was the most difficult thing I'd ever had to do. I didn't want to do it!_

Uther straightened a bit and snapped his fingers. A guard stepped forth bearing a metal gauntlet. Instinctively, Merlin stiffened and shrank against the wall. The cell door was opened for the king and Merlin swallowed as he stood face to face with Uther. No bars separated them now, nothing save for their idealistic differences and the cramped air of the cell. 

When the gauntlet struck him the side of the face, he had not been prepared for it. Merlin went crashing to the floor clutching his face as blood leaked out between his fingers. His cheekbone was shattered beneath his hand. _The king's broken my face_ , Merlin thought, panicked. His temples were throbbing fiercely from the impact of the metal glove. Uther was not smiling but the look of triumph in his eyes was enough to tell Merlin that he had meant to break him. His supposed betrayal of the prince meant more to the king than some dispassionate assassin's scheme. Arthur repeatedly stood up for Merlin and even risked his life to save his servant. The king felt his anger quite justified. 

Merlin gasped for air but nearly cried out as the motion hurt. Blood oozed from his face, staining his pale skin. The blue veins beneath the surface of his temple pulsed rapidly, pumping blood to the surface of the injury with each erratic beat of his heart. Clutching his head, Merlin unwound the neckerchief from his neck. It was already damp with his own blood, but he wadded it up and pressed it to his face, curling into a ball for protection. 

The sun had set on his second day of imprisonment. Merlin hadn't notice the king leave the dungeon and now he curled miserably in the rushes against the freezing wall. The cold had chilled his lips, turning them blue, but it also served in helping to stanch the blood flow. His neck felt sticky and his hands were coated in a layer of caked blood. Bits of straw and dirt stuck to him at odd intervals and his stomach clenched painfully. He was famished, but the sight and the taste of blood in his mouth ruined appetite. He was sick on the floor of the dungeon. Overcome with exhaustion, Merlin fell into a fitful sleep, shaking with spasms of cold and pain. In his dream, Arthur stood over his convulsing body licking sweetmeat juices from his fingers. 

  CHAPTER X

Gwen stood by the four poster bed, carefully folding linens. Being in the same room with Morgana set her on edge, though she tried her best not to let it show. With steady hands, she smoothed the bedclothes and gathered up the rest of the laundry to be taken down. Morgana sat silently at her desk impatiently tapping her quill. 

"What is it, Gwen? You're so quiet today." Morgana observed her with a kind smile. The sunlight knifed through the stained glass behind the secret witch, casting motley colours over Morgana's fair skin. Gwen shrugged evasively. 

"I'm fine, my lady." She turned and smiled to show that she was, indeed, fine. 

Sighing, Morgana put down the quill. "Are you worried about Merlin?" Gwen didn't respond, but Morgana continued as though she had replied. Shaking her head, "I just can't believe it, Gwen." 

"Believe what, my lady?" 

"That he betrayed us like that. I was so frightened, you have no idea. He just… changed." 

Gwen tensed up a bit. "Yes," she replied carefully, "I suppose it is rather hard to believe." 

Morgana inhaled and rose from her seat. "But enough of that. I don't really wish to speak of him anymore," she said, feigning distress. 

"Of course my lady. It must have been perfectly dreadful." 

Morgana nodded absently, murmuring assent. 

"I'll just take these down to be washed then." Gwen balanced the basket of laundry on her hip and started for the door. 

"Thank you Gwen," Morgana called after her, a smirk appearing on her face as soon as her maid's back was turned. Did Gwen actually believe her and think Merlin to be an evil sorcerer? She would have to watch her step around her maid. Gwen had an uncanny ability to survive in tight situations. Morgana glared around her chambers, frustrated. She wanted to go down and see how Merlin was doing. She wanted to see her father's handiwork. But no, Uther wouldn't let either of his children near the "dangerous man." Morgana sat down on her bed. There would be plenty of time to gloat during the execution, she consoled herself. 

:i:

Gwen bustled down the corridors, suddenly aware that she was doing very much the same thing when Merlin had been arrested. It wasn't far now. She walked carefully along the edge of the courtyard, making sure to struggle with her load of linens. She counted the grates carefully, glancing surreptitiously into each one in passing. 

The courtyard was busy this time of day. Arthur had been training his knights on the field earlier that morning. Gwen could see him leaning nonchalantly against the stables watching her. She turned away and began counting again, coming to the seventh grate. It was nearly impossible to hear anything coming from the cells with all of the pedestrian noise in the courtyard, but she saw a miserable figure hunched in the shadows. Merlin. 

A red cloth dropped from her basket. 

Arthur smiled at Sir Ector, slapping him soundly on the arm, smiling at some witticism that knight had made. Gwen cast a glance over her shoulder and promptly tripped over her own feet. With a small cry, she pitched forward, the laundry basket toppling to the ground. Gwen broke her fall with her hands, grimacing at the stinging sensation on her scraped palms. Arthur crossed the courtyard with a stern expression on his face. 

"Guinevere," he said curtly, rubbing his forehead as though he were exasperated with the handmaid. "It's hardly proper to spill the Lady Morgana's clothes all over the flag stones. Or were you planning on sun-drying them today?" He glared down at her, but a sparkle of affection lurked in his eyes. 

"I'm sorry my lord," Gwen replied, and knelt to gather the fallen laundry, fumbling a bit, but by no means hurrying. "It won't happen again." 

"See that it doesn't," Arthur replied sharply. He nudged a fallen cloth with the dirty toe of his boot and sighed loudly. Gwen ducked her head; her gaze skittered towards the grate where she could see Merlin sitting up a bit straighter. 

"Mind you stay away from this side of the courtyard too," Arthur reprimanded her with a grimace before turning away. "The dungeons are just below and you know there is a dangerous sorcerer. If he were to somehow _break out_ you could be in imminent danger. Hurry along; we're short enough on servants as it is." 

Gwen nodded and piled the rest of the laundry into her basket, not looking up again at Arthur's retreating back. After depositing the laundry into the washing rooms, she put on her cloak and headed for her small home in the lower town. She had some work to do. 

:i:

Arthur jogged up the steps to the castle and headed for his own chambers. His new manservant, the bootlicker whose name he didn't know, was hovering uneasily outside his room. 

"My lord!" He exclaimed, bowing deeply. Arthur pushed past him and the servant followed in his wake like a pesky shadow. "My lord, is there anything you require?" 

Arthur tugged at his coif with his left hand and waved the servant over. Instantly, the young man was by his side, helping him to shed his metal exoskeleton. The armour was gently laid on the table like fragments of egg shell, not dumped on the floor with the chain mail lumped into a pile beside it. Arthur ran a hand haphazardly through his hair, making it stick up in a manner resembling a disgruntled hedgehog. The prince waved the servant off when he felt a small tug at his feet. Looking down, he found the man attempting to remove his boots. 

"I can do that myself you know," Arthur informed him, trying not to let the exasperation he felt slither though. The servant backed off immediately. 

"Apologies, sire. I meant no offense." 

Arthur slipped behind the changing screen and rapidly divested himself of his sweaty garments, flinging them over the screen like colourful tourney favours. "Just draw me a hot bath, will you?" 

"Of course, my lord." 

My lord this. My lord that. Sire. Sire. Sire. Arthur made obscene faces at the man behind the screen. He could see the shadow darting to and fro about the chamber like a deranged bumble bee, scooping up discarded items of clothing and shouldering his armour to be polished. Efficient service came with a price. A terribly mundane one, at that. Arthur missed Merlin. 

Arthur sat in his chair, a towel haphazardly draped over his loins, and bit into one of the green apples that lay in a bowl. Normally, the stock of fruit would have been depleted; a majority of the apples usually ended up as projectiles to be launched at certain lanky manservants with big ears. He hoped his bath would be ready soon; he and Gwen had an appointment with Gaius that evening. 

:i:

Merlin slumped against the stone wall, sitting in the little patch of sunlight that reminded him of freedom. Gaius hadn't come to see him. Gwen hadn't come to see him. And … Arthur hadn't come for him. Merlin's face throbbed painfully and his eye was swollen up from the little encounter with Uther's gauntlet. His legs were peppered in bruises inflicted upon this morning by the guards tossing rocks to pass the time. Merlin was of a different opinion of the virtues of human limbs as targets, but to each his own he thought grimly. 

He was startled out of his painful trance by a very familiar and much beloved voice. 

"Guinevere," it said. Arthur! Merlin sat up a bit more, hoping to catch the conversation. It had only been a few days, but already it seemed years since he had seen his friends. Deprived of companionship, he could only sit on the dirty floor on the side of the cell farthest from the puddles of sick and the blood stains. 

He heard some more mumbling and then Gwen's voice came, sounding very near to the grate. "I'm sorry my lord. It won't happen again." 

My lord? Coherent thought was difficult to come by in Merlin's state of health, but he felt vaguely annoyed with Arthur. He was being a prat again, bossing Gwen around and yelling at her. Fine way to behave with the woman you have feelings for, Merlin thought. Merlin attempted to look up through the small grate, but his neck was aching from Uther's abuse and he could barely move from his position on the floor. His legs were unsteady as a new-born colt’s and his back erupted in pain whenever he shifted positions. Merlin could hear the pounding of blood in his head like the executioner's drum beats. He groaned, unable to find relief for his rapidly swelling face. His magic was a slippery fish, darting in and out of his grasp whenever he tried to reach it. 

Merlin was far too exhausted to play games with his powers. The next snippet of conversation came quite clearly. Arthur was speaking again, very firmly and with more volume. 

"Mind you stay away from this side of the courtyard too. The dungeons are just below and you know there is a dangerous sorcerer. If he were to somehow _break out_ you could be in imminent danger. Hurry along; we're short enough on servants as it is." 

The first thought that flitted through Merlin's mind was 'dangerous sorcerer.' So Arthur did think him worthless and evil. Merlin cradled his head in his hands, wishing the floor of the cell would swallow him up. He was well aware how horrid he must look, starving and pallid with splotches of blood and grime covering him like a botched patchwork quilt. 

"If he were to somehow break out…" Break out? Merlin raised his head again, painfully. He wasn't exactly about to be going anywhere in this state. 

And he certainly wasn't going to be able to sit in silence in the musty cell, awaiting Uther's next visit. 

He needn't wait long. The dull echo of booted feet was coming from the stairwell. 

  CHAPTER XI

Deep beneath the castle, Merlin awaited the king's visit with trepidation, to say the least. What would it be this time? The unmistakable sound of Uther's footsteps echoed off the walls. Merlin instantly recognized it; it was somehow similar to Arthur's. Both father and son strode about with the unconscious air of a skillful warrior. Merlin rather wished Uther was lacking the 'skillful warrior' bit at the moment, but he didn't have long to wish for other things. 

"Strip him," the king ordered quietly. Two guards started forth, unlocking the cell and advancing on Merlin who backed himself into a corner, the chains clacking together like dry bones. One of the guards unshackled him silently and Merlin rubbed his raw wrists with some relief. Without further invitation from the condemned man, they made a grab for his shirt. The garment was roughly dragged over his head, exposing Merlin's slim frame. The warlock shivered, wrapping his arms around his chest against an invisible breeze. His boots were yanked from his feet and he landed hard on his tail bone as his equilibrium escaped him. Uther stood back in the shadows, green eyes glinting as he watched. When the prisoner had been disrobed, his clothes were dunked into one of the buckets the guards had brought down. Washing up? Merlin wondered cynically. 

"Let's see how you cope with the cold, sorcerer. Perhaps that will force some magic out of you if you will not admit it!" Uther crossed his arms menacingly over his chest and observed the pale man's shivering body through narrowed slits. The king so resembled a snake about to strike that Merlin wondered why he didn't see a forked tongue darting out between the king's thin lips. Merlin huddled in a ball on the floor, trying to escape the leering guards. "Go on," Uther commanded. 

"W-w-what?" Merlin's teeth chattered in the frigid cell. The guards held up the dripping tunic and breeches. _I'll freeze to death if I put those on._ He stared blankly at his sodden blue tunic. One of the guards drew his sword and pressed the tip to Merlin's neck. His Adams apple leapt in his throat at the biting cold of the blade. Slowly, shivering all the while, Merlin managed to pull the shirt over his head again. The wet fabric clung to his body like a second skin, making him shift uncomfortably. The breeches hung from his legs like limp tree moss, and the boots, he was dismayed to see, sloshed when he drew them onto his feet. Those would take forever to dry, he thought miserably, and the leather will crack and shrink up. Merlin scooted to the far end of the cell, trying to ignore the hungry gazes the guards threw at him. A flicker of motion caught his eye and he saw Uther nod. Before he could register what this might mean, the rest of the water bucket was flung over top of him, thoroughly dousing his entire body. 

The guards exited the cell, snickering to themselves, and left Merlin and the king alone. 

"Are you cold?" 

Merlin glanced up, confused. The king was inquiring about his health? Of course he was cold! Merlin nodded dumbly, teeth clacking together. 

"I have warm towels. Would you like one?" 

Merlin glared at the king, shook his head. Probably some joke. 

"Well, I advise you to tell me all you know either way." 

"I'm innocent," Merlin said weakly, trying to keep still in his wet garments. "But I can see that doesn't make a difference to you." 

"Fear not, in two more days you'll never be cold again." 

Uther gave him a chilling look and turned on his heel, mounting the steps two at a time as he left the dungeons and left Merlin. 

:i:

Arthur blinked. He was sure he hadn't entered that unicorn labyrinth again. No, he shook himself; this was definitely the chambers of the court physician. No creepy, magical old men, no bright green hedges, and no poisoned cups. There was no trace of Gaius anywhere. Arthur stepped through the door frame and caught himself just as he tripped over a stack of dusty tomes. 

"Looks like Merlin blew through here," he muttered. If there was someone capable of making a mess, it was Merlin. 

"Ah, you're here sire!" 

"Gaius?" 

"Over here, sire. Just, um, please watch your step." 

"Where are you?" Arthur craned his neck, searching for a suitable path to take. None presented itself, so Arthur took a deep breath and prepared to blaze a trail through the twisting mountains of books. Papers fluttered from the tops of the book stacks like wispy clouds and the strong smell of the old leather-bound volumes hit Arthur's nose with an intensity that forced him to revise his opinion of the dulled olfactory senses of Geoffrey of Monmouth. 

In fact, every horizontal surface in the physician's chamber was covered in something. Gaius' work bench had morphed into a forest over night; it was littered with racks of glass tubes and bottles, vials of colorful liquid, sprigs of plant life and mixing bowls of both wood and stone looking rather worse for wear. 

The small, creaky table that was normally employed for meals had been pressed into service, and now it quivered under the weight of three stacks of books and a lute. Arthur frowned. Gaius emerged from behind a screen of paper, carrying a thick but compact-looking book in his hands. 

Arthur gestured about, thoroughly encompassing the mess in the room. "What is all this?" 

"It's part of our plan!" The voice came from across the room. 

"Guinevere?" Arthur spun around, wishing he could locate things. The entire room looked like it had been turned into a pharaoh's tomb with the winding tracks and the dangerous booby-traps that included monstrously weighty volumes. "How can you two find anything in here? It looks like you've ransacked Camelot's entire library and then some!" 

Gaius produced a stool from somewhere in the room and sat down. After a brief muffled exclamation, Gwen emerged into the little clearing, a little dusty, but by no means injured. Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and looked for a place he might sit. Finding none, he tugged a stack of books over and sat upon them. 

"Sire," Gaius beamed, "now that you're here, Gwen can explain the plan of action." The elderly man's eyes sparkled with the anticipation of undertaking highly seditious activities. Arthur hoped he hadn't already made a habit of it. 

"And it's taken quite a bit of research, so hold your opinions until the end, Arthur," Gwen admonished him prematurely and cleared her throat. Arthur gave her his full attention, settling more comfortably on his impromptu throne of magic books. 

"We need to find a way to communicate with Merlin and plan an escape, yes? I don't know how well our hint was received this morning…." Gaius nodded approvingly at his newest protégé. "So," Gwen continued, obviously quite proud of herself, "we need someone on the inside to work with Merlin. I talked briefly to one of the kitchen staff who brought food for Merlin and she said he looked really ill." Gwen frowned. Merlin should never have to suffer at the hands of Uther. "He'll need some help." 

"And this is where I come in?" Arthur guessed astutely. Gwen nodded and looked to Gaius who picked up on the explanation. 

"You need to get yourself arrested, sire," Gaius said bluntly. 

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "What?" 

"That's the only way you'll have access to the dungeons. You've tried getting past the guards and they're having none of it." 

Arthur grumbled. His father had been extra vigilant, still believing his son to be under some sort of spell. And with the king's frequent visits to the dungeons to extract information and offer complementary pre-execution intelligence-extraction torture, there was no way Arthur could pose as a guard without his father recognizing him. 

"Just exactly how am I supposed to get arrested? Father won't let me in the dungeons; I seriously doubt he'd throw me in with Merlin." 

"That's where we come in," Gwen said. "Sort of." 

Gaius opened up his little book. "Uther will arrest you for magic, sire." 

The world stood still while Arthur's brain struggled to catch up with everything. Just that morning, he and Gwen hadn't the faintest idea about how they would go about rescuing Merlin. They came up with a somewhat functional plan of alerting their incarcerated crony of the pending rescue mission, but they couldn't tell how well that was received or if Merlin even heard them in his apparent state of injury. And somehow between noon and dusk, Gwen and Gaius had developed an illegal scheme like a couple of masterminds. Goodness, they were more prolific and devious than Arthur had originally thought. 

Gwen vanished back into the maze of books and reappeared seconds later carrying a brown bundle. Arthur was silently impressed by her navigational skills. 

"This is for you, Arthur." Gwen shook out the bundle, revealing a drab brown robe with a large hood. 

"Erm," said Arthur as he gingerly reached for it, "thank you, Guinevere." Gwen chuckled at the confusion on the prince's face. 

Gaius smiled benevolently and said, "Try it on, Arthur. It's part of the disguise. Uther will believe you to be a druid." 

"Oh," Arthur replied, still not quite fathoming this turn of events. But he shrugged into the robe anyway. Gwen tapped her fingers on her chin as she made a slow circuit of him with the eye of a seamstress, assessing the fit and the style. 

"It's good," Arthur assured her with a kind smile to make up for the false edginess he had had to use with her that morning. The robe hid his entire body and left his face swathed in shadow from the large hood. Gaius rather thought the hood looked like a giant, black mouth, and shuddered briefly thinking of Merlin's dragon. Arthur brushed his hand over the thick brown material, a bit uncertain dressing as a druid. "What if my father realizes I've suddenly disappeared just as this sorcerer arrives in Camelot?" 

"That's why we have to get you and Merlin out before it's too late. If he's recovered enough, maybe he'll be able to use his magic." 

"But that would incriminate him even more!" Arthur said, "We can't take that risk, Guinevere." 

"Sire," Gaius put in gently, "if you stay near enough to Merlin it should appear as though you are doing the magic." 

"But, I can't really--"

"--then Merlin will be free and we can get him to safety." 

"I can't do magic, Gaius!" Being plunged into a magical rescue mission was quite a lot to process for Arthur. He was still a bit uncertain about this magic business, but foremost on his agenda was saving Merlin. And if it took magic to save magic, then by all means, Gaius, please continue. 

"I have made you a charm." Gaius dipped his head, thumbing through the pages in his book. "It will have a very small magical effect. It would only be temporary, I assure you, sire," he amended swiftly upon seeing Arthur's shocked expression. 

Gwen sat on a stack of books beside the prince. "If you can announce that you've enchanted Merlin into threatening Morgana, maybe Uther will absolve Merlin of these invidious crimes." 

"And then he executes me. Wonderful, Guinevere. And have you two thought of how my father will recognize me instantly?" 

Gaius held up his book again. "We have it all figured out, sire. If you'll just come over here, I have prepared a few potions for you that will change your appearance." 

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the dubious looking red substance that was sloshing around in the bottle. "If I drink this, will I -- it's not permanent, right?" 

"Oh, heavens no, of course not... provided Gwen administers the antidote in time." 

"Why is this sounding familiar?" Arthur grumbled under his breath. "You're not forgetting to mention any other important things, right Gaius? Things like death?" 

"It's perfectly safe," the physician assured him. "Go on, drink it all please. It doesn't taste too bad, this one." 

It tasted perfectly awful. 

Arthur gagged in a most un-princely fashion and blundered into a pile of books, upsetting the stacks of papers. Gwen rushed to his side to steady him and to prevent the Arthurian demolition. 

"What's in this?" Arthur wheezed, several octaves too high. 

Gaius cast a brief glance at Gwen. "Oh, nothing much, sire... at last, nothing you need worry about just now." 

"Just now?" 

He shut his mouth. "What's – what's happened to my voice?" Arthur squeaked, obviously flustered. Gaius frowned, his brow creasing as he flipped through the pages of another book. 

"I'm sorry sire, I may have… er, well I substituted an ingredient. Usually Merlin gets it for me, but I didn't have any on hand and we were in a rush and I may have, um. I hope you don't mind too much, sire. You still sound fine." 

Gwen bobbed her head in agreement. "Yes, Gaius is right, Arthur. You still sound very manly, nothing to fret over." 

"Nothing to fret over?" Arthur cried, his voice cracking. "I sound like a bloody child!" 

"Language, my boy." Gaius clucked his tongue and resumed the pounding of some plant material. "Now for the second potion." 

"Another one?" Arthur said flatly. But he obediently gulped it down, complying only because he knew he could make Merlin pay for this. 

Gwen went to fetch a looking glass for the prince. She and Gaius had spent a few hours choosing a new look for Arthur in Gaius's book of Magical Makeovers. (Don’t ask why he had it.) Now that she understood more about it, Gwen decided that magic was rather fun. She hoped Merlin could take her and Arthur into the woods one day and show them what he could do. 

As it was, Arthur's final look was... striking, to say the least. It struck the prince dumb as he looked into the mirror and saw a man with fiery, shoulder length red hair and dark blue eyes like Merlin's. He glared at Gwen and Gaius. 

"Is this how you wish I looked, Guinevere?" Arthur said, afraid of the answer. 

"Oh, no, no! I mean, not really. Gaius and I … we just tried to find something that no one would recognize. And well, there was this nice picture, although the man's facial structure was bit different," she said, poking his cheeks and nose. "But it looks rather nice on you, Arthur." 

"Couldn't I have kept my own hair colour?" Arthur silently mourned his luxurious, golden mane. 

Gaius smothered a chuckled nervously. "I was... erm." 

"Did you substitute anything else, Gaius?" 

"Oh, but sire, look on the bright side," he said. Arthur didn't miss how he evaded the question, but he let it go. "Uther will surely not recognize you now." 

"No, I suppose he won't. So what's to be done then?" 

The three bent their heads together over a stack of books serving as a table to plan their seditious scheme to save Merlin. By midnight, the three had exhausted several books on magic and Arthur felt as though his eyeballs had been sandpapered. He had never read this extensively before, let alone about magic. Arthur mentally expanded Merlin's list of duties for making him go through this hare-brained scheme. 

"And that's all there is to it!" Gwen sat back, rubbing her eyes. 

"That's because you have the easy end of it," Arthur muttered gloomily. Gwen giggled despite the fatigue. 

  CHAPTER XII

_I cannot believe I am doing this._ Arthur kept up the mantra in his head as he lurked in the shadows of the courtyard. _I cannot believe I am doing this…_ He tugged the hood down nearly over his eyes and watched quietly for the signal. The courtyard was bustling with activity in the early hours. The sun had only just emerged over the horizon and the castle was already humming. 

Arthur reviewed the incantation in his head again. He was certain he was completely mangling the pronunciation of the spell, but it wasn't as though anyone else would be able to tell the difference. It felt extremely strange to be pretending to use magic when he had been told the same thing over and over again throughout his upbringing: Magic is evil. All of it. 

Apparently not. Arthur clutched the little charm in his left hand and flexed the fingers of his right. The wound had knitted itself back together with a magically-aided poultice, but the skin was as pink as a wildoren's flesh and quite tender. The pain helped the prince to focus. Arthur scooted out of the way, ducking behind a market stall. Despite having stared at his reflection for several minutes the previous night, he still forgot he didn't look like Prince Arthur. There really wasn't any need for skulking about like a depraved person. No one suspected anything unusual about him. Well, besides the swarthy cloak. 

Arthur looked up at the sky, still faintly tinged with pink but rapidly giving way to a clear blue. Merlin would be coming to rouse him at this time if the manservant wasn't rotting away in the dungeons at the moment. Arthur had to emerge from his hiding spot soon. His chamber doors had been bolted shut, should anyone attempt an early morning search and find his bed immaculate and not slept in. According to several of the castle staff, Arthur had taken ill and was not to be disturbed under any circumstances save by Gaius the physician, who was to administer treatment late in the afternoon. 

His keen senses detected a change in the scenery. His angel stepped out onto the flagstones bearing two empty buckets. Gwen's skirts swished slowly around her legs as she made her way to draw water from the pump. Arthur slipped between two vendors and headed for the pump as well. 

_"It's got to be a heinous crime, Arthur," Gwen reminded him as they flipped through the magic books. Gaius had gone off to bed, but not after vigorously drilling Arthur on the basic incantation pronunciations and some basic Old Religion history. It was the physician's own, slapped-together crash course in elementary magic._

"Sorcery in of itself is heinous enough for my father." 

"We have to make sure he sticks you in with Merlin though. So… think of something… something… bad… no, worse than bad, really awful!" 

Arthur pulled his brows together in thought and blinked like an owl. "I've got an idea. I hope you won't mind too much, Guinevere…"

Arthur strode confidently towards the pump and the woman who was drawing the water. Guinevere glanced up at him, but continued with her task. With a smooth motion, Arthur let his hood fall back, displaying a crown of fiery red hair that burned copper and auburn in the morning sun. He came up beside the handmaiden and placed a gentle yet possessive hand on her back. Gwen took a step back in bewilderment. 

For a moment she forgot that this was Arthur. Her very own. He looked so different. 

"Guinevere," he whispered in her ear softly, his voice cracking and husky, lacking in the familiar sonorous tones she was used to. Arthur cringed and frowned, still detesting the pitch the potion had put on his vocal chords. Gwen met his eyes, looking a trifle nervous, but excitement thrummed beneath her skin as she played her part in The Plan. 

Without warning, (or so it seemed to everyone around them; Gwen was obviously expecting it) Arthur kicked over her water buckets, dumping the precious liquid onto the dusty cobblestones of the street. It sort of felt good to be the one disturbing the peace instead stopping it. 

Gwen glared at Arthur and opened her mouth to tell him off when Arthur swiftly covered her mouth with his own, working his lips softly against hers. Guinevere was sorely tempted to continue the kiss, but she pulled away sharply and shoved him in the chest. 

"How dare you, you filthy clotpole!" 

Arthur raised his eyebrows. Where had she learned that word? But his features quickly darkened and he made a grab for her waist, pulling her against himself swiftly. Gwen struggled in his grasp, kicking at his legs, but he lifted her from the ground and sandwiched her between himself and wall. 

"Help me!" Gwen shrieked. She ducked her head again, meeting Arthur's lips once more and wishing this could have been carried out in a more private atmosphere. As it was, she was supposed to play the damsel in obvious distress. Arthur hummed softly against her mouth, his hands gentle on the fabric of her dress though he appeared to be holding her forcefully. 

"Insult me again," Arthur muttered into her neck, nipping at the tender skin and causing her to yelp involuntarily. She paused for a moment trying to think up something nasty to say to Arthur. It was rather difficult, despite the circumstances. 

From the corner of her vision, she could see a small group of guards approaching. Their clanking weapons and armor did not escape Arthur's notice either. He paused momentarily in his "assault" and drew back a bit, clutching the charm that hung suspended from the belt on his robe. 

"Sorcerer!" Gwen shouted, a bit forced, Arthur thought, but no matter. "He's trying to enchant me!" 

"Am I doing a good job?" Arthur whispered against her cheek. He could feel her face muscles twitch in the briefest of smiles. 

The guards broke into a run upon hearing the word "sorcerer" and were nearly upon them. Arthur drew away from Gwen and held out his right hand, covered with a fingerless glove to protect his scar that might give him away. Hand outstretched in an imitation of Merlin (according to Gaius's description), Arthur shouted loudly for the entire courtyard to hear. 

"Four bears!" 

Nothing happened. "Come on," Arthur said under his breath to the little charm, "work, damn it!" Gaius had enchanted the charm to respond to a certain word of the Old Religion. _Forbaerne_ was that single word. How long had he been practicing it? 

Gwen stayed frozen against the wall in "terror" as the "sorcerer" attempted to halt the progress of the guards. 

"Four barns!" Nothing. "Er.. -bar none!" 

The guards kept coming. "Oh sod it," Arthur muttered and drew a sword from somewhere within the heavy folds of his robe. The clothing was cumbersome, but Gwen had done a superb job on it and Arthur was still given a fairly good range of movement despite the draping fabric. He tucked the charm away and turned to face the men of Camelot. 

:i:

Merlin's clothing had barely dried when the guards tossed another bucket of water over his head. The warlock had the sneaking suspicion that it was sewage water when the smell hit his nose and soaked into his hair and wet clothing. Great. 

The sun was barely up that morning when Merlin felt a sort of niggling sensation in the back of his mind. There was a bit of weak magic afoot; he could sense it was extremely near. The castle was waking up and the constant patter of footsteps spiralled down into the dungeon cell that Merlin huddled in. He hated being wet and freezing. But as much as he detested the cold, he wasn't about to welcome the heat of the pyre on the following day. 

Depressed and chilled to the very marrow of his bones, Merlin rocked back and forth on the damp straw and listened to the activity of the courtyard through the little grate above his head. If he didn't get to see Arthur soon it might be too late. Merlin wished he'd been able to see his friend one last time and say farewell. The same went for Gwen and Gaius. Gaius, Merlin sighed. What would he do without the kindness of his guardian if he had to leave Camelot? 

The warlock was faced with three new occupational paths: fuel for a rather large fire, exiled fugitive of Camelot, or Emrys. Embracing Emrys would be simple, he thought, but leaving Camelot would not, and that would most certainly be included in the job description should he choose a magical path. 

Not wanting to think about his future any longer as it made him unhappy, Merlin rose from the floor of the cell shaking with cold as the pocket of warmth disappeared. He paced restlessly as far as the chains would allow, clanking horribly all the while. 

The magic sensation pulsed in his veins. He crept to the bars of the cell and peered up out at the guards on duty. 

Except they weren't on duty yet. Perfect. 

He didn't dare use magic when anyone was in the dungeons. That would incriminate him instantly. But with the dungeons empty…

Merlin muttered a spell and warmth shot through his body and threaded its way into his extremities, heating his body with a pleasant tingle that he usually only felt when drinking. Not that he drank very often. Feeling a bit more revitalized, Merlin stood on tiptoe facing the grate. There was magic out there and it was calling to him. It had a familiar vibration to it as though it were done by someone he should recognize. 

Then he heard a strange voice shouting something about bears. Merlin cocked his head in surprise. Surely there weren't any bears in Camelot. That would be terrible indeed. Unable to see into the courtyard, he settled for listening with his magic. 

What he heard utterly confused him. 

  CHAPTER XIII

Swords. He could hear a scuffle abounding in the early morning. Merlin leaned against the wall on tiptoe, his nose stretching towards the grate in the wall even though his entire body rebelled. A woman screamed. He didn't hear any bears. 

Merlin peaked over his shoulder again. The guards hadn't arrived yet. Maybe he could … Merlin let the magic push him up through the air until his face was level with the grate and he was looking on the outside world once more. The familiar sights of the castle and the sun warmed his heart a cheery fire. He grimly noted the pyre being prepared. It would be ready in another day. 

Merlin peered towards the end of the courtyard. His field of vision was obscured by the angle of the grate, but a few of Camelot's guards were swarming around a cloaked man Merlin had never seen before. The woman screamed again and Merlin directed his attention to her. 

Petite, dark skinned, and in obvious distress -- it was Gwen. Merlin ground his teeth together, making his jaw ache. Someone had been attacking her! Merlin cursed Morgana under his breath for targeting her handmaiden again. That witch was never satisfied, was she? 

A small blast of light erupted from the circle of guards, forcing them back for a moment. Merlin squinted, trying to get a better view. He felt the magic again, stronger this time. It was definitely something he should recognize, he thought. 

A fair skinned, red haired man was paraded past him towards the side entrance to the castle. The king was not to be troubled at this hour with cases of rapists and sorcerers. Merlin maintained the spell a bit longer, tempted to call out to Gwen through mind speech to check on her welfare. But he remained silent, wishing his secret were a lighter burden to bear. She stared after the sorcerer with an odd expression, Merlin thought, for someone who had apparently been molested moments before. He hoped that she had not been enchanted, yet somehow he knew that she had not. The magic he had sensed held no malice, nor did it seem particularly powerful. In fact, Merlin sniffed the air, the magic had been an external source. The sorcerer himself did not appear to have much knowledge. 

He's foolish, Merlin thought bitterly, if he thinks he can waltz into Camelot and do magic. 

Merlin tactfully ignored the fact that he had done just that on his first day in Uther's city. The now familiar din of armour alerted him to the guard rotation and he relinquished the levitation spell, sinking slowly to the floor. The warlock crawled into the corner and sat down in the musty hay. He tried to keep his mind off his stomach, but his torso had shrunk considerably during his days of imprisonment. He was thin enough to begin with and now he could easily count his ribs. A feeble grumbling erupted beneath his hand and he let out a loud sigh, wishing for some of Gaius's terrible porridge. 

Visions of stiff oatmeal shattered with the rattling of the keys. His cell door was being unlocked. Merlin sat up a bit, instantly wary of the intrusion, but was struck dumb with surprise as a brown blur hurtled through the doorway. The lump skidded ungracefully to a stop near the wall, carving out a track in the rushes. The door slammed shut, the keys twisting in the lock once more and the guards left. 

Merlin waited patiently for the heap of brown cloth to sort itself out. When it finally did, and a red haired head poked up like a mushroom from the robe; Merlin recognized the sorcerer in the square who had attacked Gwen. He instantly scooted backwards, putting as much space as he could between himself and this vile man. 

The red haired man looked up, and upon spotting Merlin, gave a whoop of delight. Merlin scrunched his eyebrows in bewilderment and edged further away. 

"Merlin!" Ginger exclaimed. Merlin frowned. He didn't like ginger people overmuch. 

"Who the hell are you?" Merlin asked, a bit savagely. He folded his arms across his chest to show he wasn't intimidated by the fiery crown of red atop the head of this revolting man. 

"That's a fine way to talk to your friend. Do you know just how much work I put in to getting myself arrested?" Ginger lowered his voice a notch, remembering that the guards were still in the general vicinity. 

Merlin's eyebrows shot up. Strange fellow indeed. He shifted on the rushes and regarded the ginger warily as though he expected the other man to spontaneously combust due to a mispronounced incantation. 

Ginger shut his mouth; he had forgotten he looked like a red-haired charlatan. Merlin didn't even know who he really was. He ought to tell him. 

Ginger smiled. Nah, he'd have a bit of fun first. 

"Heh," he laughed nervously. "Sorry. I get a bit crazy when my trousers rip." 

Merlin arched an eyebrow again and said, "Oh? Do you rip your trousers often then, because you seem like the type to be—."

"Shut up," Ginger said familiarly. Merlin narrowed his eyes. "The guards tore my trousers right through my robe," he lifted a rent piece of fabric to show the damage done to his garments. Shaking his head in disapproval, he gave Merlin a lopsided smile and settled more comfortably on the stone floor. "I'll have to find someone to mend them for me," he shot a glance at his cellmate, but Merlin wasn't watching. 

"You attacked my friend." 

"What?" 

"It was you," Merlin said. Suddenly feeling extremely exhausted, Merlin let out a faint groan and flopped onto the filthy floor, closing his eyes. Ginger hadn't taken much notice of Merlin's appearance, but as his eyes drifted over the tired warlock, he felt the heat rising on his neck. 

Merlin's face was swollen an angry red, pus leaked out of a nasty wound and the fringe of his hair was caked with dried blood. The shirt he wore was stiff with something Ginger had no desire to name and lips were broken and cracked. Ginger had a feeling that if he were to undress the manservant, he would find the rest of his body marked up with signs of abuse. Ginger fumed at what his father had done. 

His face softened again as he spotted Merlin's dark lashes, the only unblemished bit on his face. He hadn't really paid much attention to Merlin's appearance before beyond his absurdly large ears. Now, Merlin appeared vulnerable and fragile. Ginger sighed and swallowed his pride. He needed to give his friend some peace of mind; who knew how much longer they had? 

Gently shaking him awake, Ginger peered into Merlin's pallid face. Merlin opened his eyes suddenly, sitting bolt upright and bashing his forehead into the ginger man's nose. 

"Ow!" Ginger sat back, gripping his nose in pain. "Bloody—ow! That hurt." 

Merlin rubbed his own bruised appendage and glared at the ginger man. His expression silently telling the ginger just what he thought of him: a cruel, foolish, and arrogant prat. Ginger relented, and had the grace to look somewhat sheepish when he caught sight of the side of Merlin's ruined face. 

Merlin kept watching him, waiting for him to say something or for him to vanish, he wasn't sure. 

Ginger took a deep breath, "Merlin." Merlin's eyes flickered over his own for a moment before the warlock's gaze skittered away. "I know you have magic." 

"So do you, apparently." Merlin snapped. How did this man even know him? Was he a druid then? Ginger's eyes widened a fraction. There it was – the admission. He hadn't been expecting it to hurt, but it did, knowing that Merlin freely disclosed this information to someone he didn't believe to be Arthur. 

"Merlin," he began again. "It's me. Arthur. I've come to help get you out." 

Merlin gaped for a moment before he burst out laughing. 

"What's so funny?" Arthur demanded. 

"You're not the prince," Merlin said. "He sounds nothing like you – and he's certainly not a ginger." 

"What, have you got something against ginger people, then?" 

"No, I—yes, I suppose so," Merlin mumbled, his mirth barely contained. "I'm not that much of an idiot. I think I know Arthur when I see him. And besides," he said, his voice darkening a bit, "Arthur would never hurt Gwen." 

Arthur dipped his head, not wanting to meet Merlin's accusing eyes. 

"When Guinevere brings the antidote, you'll see it's me, Merlin." He spoke with such conviction that Merlin was almost inclined to believe him. Almost. 

Merlin shook his head slightly. "You can't be Arthur because Arthur can't do magic." 

"Of course I can't do magic! Did you not hear me? I can barely pronounce that one word! Gaius said you do that one all the time, that's why he was able to make up a charm for me that responded to the spell." He was whispering though it was clear he wanted to shout. 

"Gaius said…?"

"Four bears or for bar none, I don't know!" Arthur sputtered. "I got it once, and that was it. I don't think it'll work again." He held up the little charm wrapped up in white cloth. Merlin took it from him, turning it over in his hands. The magic was fading in it, but he could detect that familiarity that had called out to him before. Gaius. "Gaius and Gwen found a spell to change my looks and my voice." 

"I just … I can't," Merlin murmured. This was made by Gaius; he could feel it. But Gaius would never tell his secret to anyone, least of all to Arthur or this unknown ginger sorcerer. "He wouldn't betray me like that." 

Merlin shuffled into the corner and drew his knees up around his chest. "I don't know what to do anymore," he whispered to the wall. He looked back up to the ginger sorcerer. "Do you know how hard it is for me?" 

Arthur blinked owlishly. 

"Are you really Arthur?" he asked quietly. Arthur nodded. "How do I know that? I just saw you attacking my friend out there." 

"It was a set up," Arthur answered, matching Merlin's volume so the guards wouldn't overhear. "We tried to let you know we were going to help you a few days ago, and then she and Gaius came up with another plan." 

"The grate?" Merlin asked, remembering that strange conversation he had heard, so out of character for both Arthur and Gwen. Arthur nodded again. 

"We thought if I got arrested for sorcery, I would be able to speak with you. Merlin, when," he cleared his throat self-consciously, "when the guards took you away and Morgana told me you'd threatened to kill her I didn't know what to think." 

Merlin's heart leapt in his throat. "You didn't seriously think she was telling the truth?" 

Arthur shot him a look. He believed his story then? "I couldn't until I had a chance to speak with you. But what I want to know is why she would lie? I know about your magic; I know you aren't evil." 

Merlin's face drained of colour if that was even possible at this point. Arthur knew. He knew! No more secrets, no more skulking about in the shadows, no more lies. This was what he had always wanted, for Arthur to know and to accept him for who he was. The shock of it all was enough to blow Merlin over like a feather and he hit the floor of the cell again with a dull thud. 

Arthur waved the end of his robe over Merlin's face. The warlock didn't stir. 

"Oh come on, Merlin, you are such a girl!" Arthur said affectionately over Merlin's passed out form. 

  CHAPTER IV

Merlin's comfortable world of hiding his identity exploded in a flurry of shards and jumbled emotions. He was elated, he was petrified, he was bewildered, he was nervous. _When did all this occur_ , he wondered in his passed out state. Gaius had told Arthur about his magic? It hurt a bit to say the least. Gaius was the last person he thought would reveal his secret. Did that mean Gwen knew as well then since she was apparently in on the rescue mission? 

Merlin tried to focus on his breathing while he processed this new information. How exactly did Arthur say he was going to save him? If they were both convicted for using magic he didn't see a good way out of this for himself. Uther would be down before long upon hearing of the newest prisoner. They needed to get out of the dungeons. 

"Mmphm. Am not," Merlin muttered in response to Arthur's insults. Arthur sat back on his heels and abandoned his revival attempts. Merlin turned on his side and lifted his head from the ground, looking like a small selkie. Arthur rolled his eyes and sat beside his friend. 

"I can't get used to you looking like that," Merlin muttered under his breath. "Why did you choose that look?" He shivered involuntarily at the shock of ginger hair atop the prince's head. 

"I didn't. Gwen and Gaius made the potions." He pulled a disgusted face and Merlin correctly surmised that Arthur was recalling how the potions tasted. "And Gaius … substituted… certain ingredients because he was out of stock. So that explains the … voice. And the ginger." 

"I think your voice sounds perfectly normal." Arthur glared. "Well, almost normal. It's pitched a bit higher than usual… sort of like mine actually." Merlin glanced at Arthur. "I'll stop talking." 

Arthur nodded. 

"Are you really all right with my having magic?" Merlin ventured carefully. He kept his gaze fixed on the upturned palms of his hands and swallowed audibly, feeling his sore neck muscles throbbing. His face hadn't gotten any better, and indeed if he didn't seek out Gaius soon he might end up with a serious infection. Merlin had numbed his fractured cheekbone with a spell, but it didn't stave off the pain entirely. When he unconsciously ran a hand over his face, he felt the terrible concave hollow and squishy skin. Not too unlike a rotten melon, he thought, frowning. His neckerchief had been discarded days ago, deemed unfit to wear as it was covered in blood and other bodily fluids. Merlin sighed sadly, remembering that horrible day when the guards had removed it to be burnt. 

Arthur mulled over Merlin's statement before replying. He was extremely irked that Merlin hadn't thought it meet to tell him himself. He also was feeling rather foolish not to have spotted the magic before now, and bewildered by just how much he owed his manservant. Merlin was much more than a manservant, perhaps he always had been and Arthur just hadn't realised it. The prince flexed his forearms experimentally, the familiar muscle groups responding to the memories of past battles. He thought he should feel betrayed, but that wasn't entirely the case. It bothered him, and he would have a nice, long chat with Merlin when they got through this, which by the way, they most certainly would. But for the present, Arthur was not angry. 

"Yeah. Yeah I think I'm all right with it." Arthur said. "But what I want to know," he paused, gathering his thoughts together. "I want to know why Morgana would lie about this. You, obviously, are not plotting to kill me. Why would she think you threatened her?" Merlin did not mistake the serious turn this conversation had taken. He heaved a sigh, feeling extremely reluctant about disclosing his past conflicts with Morgana to her half-brother. 

"Morgana and I have had some … difficulties," he began lamely. Arthur wasn't looking at him, but Merlin knew he was listening. "She isn't what she seems, Arthur. I know you think of her as a sister and this is probably going to be really hard to hear, but it's important." 

Arthur nodded for Merlin to continue. He could cope with this. He knew it wasn't likely to be something to rejoice over. If Morgana had tried to have Merlin executed, things couldn't have been very peachy between the two. 

The unmistakable sound of heavy booted feet split the air and Merlin instantly pressed himself against the wall. Arthur sat up, his senses on high alert as the guards came stomping towards their cell. The keys jangled before one fit into the lock and the door swung open. 

"The king will question you now," the guard huffed at Arthur. "On your feet. Move." 

Arthur glanced at Merlin and slowly rose from the filthy floor to be clapped in irons and led away. "Wait," Arthur said. The guards cocked their heads, obviously annoyed. 

"I freely admit to my crimes. I also take responsibility for the plot to assassinate the crown prince." 

"That's all very well, sorcerer, but ol' king Uther's the one ye wanna be tellin'." He shoved Arthur in the small of his back, sending him stumbling. Arthur would have clouted the guard over the head for speaking of his father in such a familiar manner, but he kept his mouth shut and shuffled towards the stairs. Merlin pressed against the bars of the cell and watched Arthur's slow, manacle-encumbered progress out of the dungeons. He hoped everything would be all right. 

:i:

Arthur was poked and prodded through the corridors. He made a mental note to seem confused, as any new-comer to the castle would surely be lost in the maze of hallways. When the double doors to the throne room loomed ahead like a brown cliff face, Arthur swallowed his nervousness and straightened his back as the doors swung open. 

Uther sat on his throne like a menacing, breathing, dragon. Arthur had a glimpse of what actual sorcerers went through when they were brought before the king. Uther looked livid as he reclined in his throne, which was more like a glorified wooden chair, Arthur thought from his new perspective. He half expected smoke to be rising from his father's nostrils and fire to be crackling in his gullet. Arthur understood why their house name was Pendragon. All the Pendragons had the ability to look like their draconian namesake. 

"Bring forth the offender," Uther growled, his gloved hand curling around the armrest of his throne like a spiked tail. Arthur was dragged into the room and forced to his knees before the king. He looked up boldly into the eyes of his own father, feeling the weight of the decision he made in order to save Merlin. 

Uther straightened and then leaned forward to get a better view of Ginger. "You have caused unrest in my city this morning." The king spoke in a voice pitched low with smoldering rage. He snapped his fingers and the guards left the room returning moments later with Guinevere. Arthur jerked his head around upon hearing her footsteps and only barely contained his smile at seeing her. Gwen gave no indication she was pleased to see him save for a brief blink and a kind look. 

"Do you deny that you violated the Lady Morgana's handmaid?" 

"I did not violate her." 

"She tells me you assaulted her with malicious intent." 

Arthur opened his mouth to argue but the king continued. "And that's not all, is it? You practice magic! In the very city where it is banned. You do know the punishment is death." 

Arthur nodded once, and met the king's eyes with defiance. "Not all magic is evil," he spoke evenly. Arthur realised that he was no longer defending himself, but Merlin from these accusations. 

Uther narrowed his eyes. "Magic has been outlawed! You will go to your death tomorrow with the other sorcerer, Merlin." 

Arthur shook his head adamantly. "Merlin is not to blame." 

That gave the king pause. "And why is that?" Uther leaned back in his throne, absently sipping from his goblet. The king glowered over the rim of his cup. 

Arthur swallowed hard and threw his life down. "I met him the lower town and found out he was manservant the prince. I enchanted him to assassinate the crown prince. He has no magic. None of his actions were his own; he is innocent of any crimes he is accused of. I am solely responsible, but I do not repent. I will not repent." 

Uther set down the goblet in a clipped motion and stared hard at the red haired sorcerer before him with hatred in his eyes. Arthur noticed Gwen fidgeting from the corner of his vision. 

"The Lady Morgana was threatened by Merlin. That is something I find difficult to absolve him of." 

"He was enchanted with a powerful magic," Arthur spoke carefully, "he knew not what he was doing." Arthur steadied his voice, trying his hardest to remember all that Gaius had told him. Gaius hovered in the shadows of the columns out of Arthur's line of sight. The physician silently willed Arthur not to let anything important slip. "If there is anyone to blame, it is I." 

"You are eager to see him go free. Why?" Uther seemed genuinely curious, though posed his questions harshly. Arthur, however, had been schooled since birth to meet his father's harsh tones with courage. Gaius silently hoped that Arthur's calm demeanour did not give anything away as to his identity. 

Arthur laughed without humour. "Not all sorcerers are entirely without honour. I will not have another punished for my crimes." 

"Then why send him in the first place?" 

"I did not mean for him to be caught." Obviously. "Camelot is more vigilant than I expected," he tacked on sarcastically. 

"Indeed it is," Uther murmured. He rose from his seat and stalked over to the ginger sorcerer kneeling on the hard, stone floor. "Why do you give up now, sorcerer?" 

Arthur looked up at his father. "Who says I have?" 

The resounding crack echoed through the throne room as Uther's hand came down upon his cheek. The ring the king wore cut through Arthur's skin, tearing at his flesh. The prince in disguise winced, but did not move or speak. He closed his eyes and saw that image of Merlin in the cell again, curled into a ball on the putrid flakes of hay and peppered with bruises and a bloodied face. His own father had done that to his best friend. Arthur suppressed his raging emotions: confusion and concern for Merlin and a feeling of justification towards his father. If Merlin, was truly his best friend and had no one to stand up for him, then Arthur would. Arthur inhaled sharply. 

"The prince has taken ill, has he not?" Arthur continued relentlessly. "He has not risen this morning, or so I'm told." 

"Silence!" Uther bellowed, on the verge of hysterics. All of this magic business was driving him up the wall. "You will not speak of my son again. You are guilty of conspiring against the royal family. You are guilty of assault on a citizen of Camelot and you are guilty of manipulating the prince's manservant. You will die by fire tomorrow." Uther was not aware his hands were clenched into fists, but he reluctantly eased the tension in his hands and turned back towards his throne. His eyes glazed over, briefly tinged with red. "On second thought," he said, swiveling his head around like a long-necked beast, "If the boy's life is so important to you, would it not punish you more to see him die by your side?" 

"But he's innocent!" Arthur shouted. 

"He consorted with you –- a sorcerer. You said so yourself. That is a crime punishable by death." 

"But--" 

"He still committed treason whether he knew what he was doing or not. That makes him guilty." 

Arthur could feel the tips of ears reddening as he remembered his father's words days ago. _Naturally you wouldn't know if you were enchanted or not. I cannot assume any of your rash actions are your own until the boy is dead._ It wasn't like his father to go back on his own words. Perhaps all these threats to his family had made him unreasonable, but nevertheless, Uther had raised his son to stay true to himself and to never break his word. Arthur jerked on the chains and glared at the floor. 

"No," Arthur's pale skin flushed red in anger. "No, it does not make him guilty." 

"Perhaps not, sorcerer, but you deserve to suffer for your crimes – and suffer you will," Uther sneered. "No one threatens my son or my ward!" He clapped his hands for his guards. "Prepare the pyre for two." 

  CHAPTER XV

Morgana slipped between the shadows of the columns lining Uther's throne room like a ghost. 

"Bring forth the offender," the king said from his throne. Morgana pressed against the cold stones, out of Uther's line of sight. "You have caused unrest in my city this morning." 

She caught a glimpse of fiery hair and a man was roughly shoved to his knees before the king. Morgana could hear the resounding crack of the hard tiles colliding with the man's kneecaps. Frowning slightly, she resumed listening. 

Another sound came from the front of the room and Morgana quickly swivelled around the shadowy columns to keep out of the way. It was Gwen. 

"Do you deny that you violated the Lady Morgana's handmaid?" Morgana's green eyes flashed in the shadows. Someone had attacked Gwen? Her maid hadn't spoken a word of it to her… but then again, Morgana thought to herself, Gwen had been terribly quiet, always keeping to herself since Merlin was imprisoned. Thinking of Merlin rotting away in the dungeons brought a smile tugging at the corners of her blood red lips. Uther would be harsh, very harsh indeed. 

_"My dear Morgana, you have nothing more to fear," he assured her in the privacy of her chambers. Morgana sat in her bed, legs twisted up in the bedclothes, chest heaving and eyes bright with tears. One of the castle servants had fetched the king upon hearing Morgana's screams._

"I see him," she gasped, sobbing uncontrollably, "again and again, my lord." She shivered, voice quavering like the vibration of a tuning fork. Uther rubbed his forehead. "He- he was killing Arthur! And I could see his eyes! They were looking straight at me!" 

"Hush, now. He is locked away; he can do you no harm." 

Morgana shook her head wildly, her dark tresses flying around her like a pair of black raven's wings. "No!" She screamed, flinging herself back onto the pillows. She thrashed around a bit until the king got a firm hold on her shoulders. 

"Morgana," he said firmly. 

"No! No!" 

"These nightmares. They are only dreams!" He spoke urgently, cursing his son's manservant under his breath with each scream from his ward. "Gaius will give you something for them." 

Morgana clutched at the blankets. "They d-don't work, my lord. Nothing keeps him from my dreams at night! Oh," she rubbed her eyes, "I haven't slept since – since…"

Uther rose from the bed, his face set and determined. That malicious sorcerer-servant had caused his ward severe mental distress and he did not mean for the boy to go unpunished. 

"I don't think I'll ever sleep again so long as he's alive," Morgana whispered despairingly. Uther closed his eyes, seeing the pyre before him. He left the room quietly, the door clicking shut. 

Morgana smirked at the memory from the shadows of the room but returned her attention to the prosecution of the offender. She was rather bothered that someone other than herself and her sister saw fit to terrorize her handmaiden. She had always reserved that as a quiet sport of her own. 

"I did not violate her." The man, as he so appeared, had a rather crisp and high voice. He can't be much more than sixteen, Morgana guessed. 

"She tells me you assaulted her with malicious intent." 

Morgana almost chuckled aloud and found herself wishing that the man had taken care of Gwen. That girl was becoming a nuisance more than a friend. It was a shame really, Morgana thought, rubbing her hands together from the coolness of the stone, Gwen was always so kind. But she chose the wrong side – she chose Arthur and Merlin. 

"And that's not all, is it? You practice magic! In the very city where it is banned. You do know the punishment is death." 

If the witch had large ears like Merlin, they would have perked up immediately. A sorcerer too? Very interesting…

Morgana cursed her hiding spot. It was convenient for eavesdropping but the shadowy niche was small and she longed to see what was going on. 

"Not all magic is evil," she heard the sorcerer say. Morgana raised a delicate eyebrow. 

But then came Uther's harsh voice again, and Morgana narrowed her eyes, glaring holes into the tapestry on the wall. 

"Magic has been outlawed! You will go to your death tomorrow with the other sorcerer, Merlin." 

Morgana peered carefully around the pillar. The sorcerer shook his head adamantly. "Merlin is not to blame." 

Merlin is not to blame. 

WHAT? Morgana shrieked noiselessly. She clenched her fists and it took all of her self-control not to let her own magic whisk out of her to some destructive end. In her blind rage, she missed the next exchange, but it was all the same to her. This sorcerer was helping Merlin! 

HOW DARE HE? How did he know about Merlin? Morgana fumed in the shadows, unaware that she was causing small cracks to appear in the floor. 

"He was enchanted with a powerful magic. He knew not what he was doing." 

No, no, no, Morgana thought. This cannot be right! This cannot be right! How had someone found about this? Merlin had not been enchanted and he didn't even have magic. How had this … this ginger, Morgana ground out for lack of a better word, discovered Merlin's peril and concocted a scheme to save him? 

"If there is anyone to blame, it is I." 

Oh, honourable, honourable. Morgana mocked the sorcerer in her head, mentally sticking him full of pins and pouring scalding mandrake brew over his skin. Honour. Just like Arthur; she thought bitterly. Her half-brother was always concerned with being honourable. 

"You are eager to see him go free. Why?" No, Uther, Morgana poured her energy into the king. No. Do not listen to him. Merlin is horrible! He must die! 

The ginger laughed without humour. "Not all sorcerers are entirely without honour. I will not have another punished for my crimes." 

"Then why send him in the first place?" 

"I did not mean for him to be caught. Camelot is more vigilant than I expected." 

Morgana made a dubious sound that could be interpreted as a sarcastic noise. 

"Indeed it is," Uther murmured. Morgana heard the faint creak of the wood and the king's booted feet upon the floor. She slid around the column, out of his sight again. 

"Why do you give up now, sorcerer?" 

A slight pause. "Who says I have?" 

The harsh sound of a slap cracked through the room. Morgana jumped in spite of herself at the sound. 

"The prince has taken ill, has he not? He has not risen this morning, or so I'm told." 

Morgana drew her brows together. How very true… It was quite strange that Arthur, robust, athletic Arthur, had suddenly taken ill. She made a mental note to pay the prince a visit later that evening. _My dear brother must be in terrible pain_ , she thought, not feeling sorry at all. 

"Silence!" Uther bellowed. "You will not speak of my son again. You are guilty of conspiring against the royal family. You are guilty of assault on a citizen of Camelot and you are guilty of manipulating the prince's manservant. You will die by fire tomorrow." 

Morgana clenched her fists, feeling the power rising in her. Uther was going to absolve Merlin! He must not! The witch closed her eyes in concentration, a faint golden glow appearing beneath her eyelids. 

"On second thought," the king said. Morgana held her breath. "If the boy's life is so important to you, would it not punish you more to see him die by your side?" She smiled. 

"But he's innocent!" the sorcerer shouted. 

"He consorted with you –- a sorcerer. You said so yourself. That is a crime punishable by death." 

"But--" 

"He still committed treason whether he knew what he was doing or not. That makes him guilty." 

Morgana couldn't keep the smirk off her face. She wished she wasn't stuck lurking in the throne room for she truly felt like leaping for joy. Morgause would be so proud of her devious scheme! She could just see the approval and the love that her sister would bestow upon her. _Oh Morgause_ , Morgana thought wistfully. _The only one who can truly love me for who I am._

"No." The ginger man was arguing with the king. "No, it does not make him guilty." 

"Perhaps not, sorcerer, but you deserve to suffer for your crimes – and suffer you will," Uther sneered. "No one threatens my son or my ward!" He clapped his hands for his guards. "Prepare the pyre for two." 

Morgana ducked her head down and made a silent exit. When she was free of the throne room, the silence lifting off her chest like a heavy weight, she emitted a squeak of pure elation. Her ruse had worked on the king – severe mental distress – ha! And her magic! She grinned wildly until she heard the approaching guards. The smile was quickly replaced with an indifferent and slightly distracted and nervous expression. The guards nodded to her as she passed, and she began smirking again as soon as she was out of their sight. 

:i:

When Arthur was hustled back down to the dungeons to await his execution the following morning, he found Merlin curled on the floor of the cell in roughly the same condition he had been in earlier – alive, that is. However, the secret warlock was sporting a new black eye and his wrists were rubbed raw from the shackles. Arthur was shoved into the cell by the guards and the two were left alone. 

"Ar-?" Merlin squeaked, turning restlessly onto his back. 

"I'm here, Merlin." Arthur sat down beside his manservant in the rough bed of rushes. "Who did this to you?" 

"Guards," Merlin mumbled, blinking ineffectually. Arthur sighed histrionically and scowled into the dim light of the cell. Merlin tugged at the laces of his tunic, attempting to loosen them as they were choking him a bit. Arthur finished the task for him; the pain in his scarred right hand did not even register this time. The prince closed his eyes and tilted his head back until he felt the coolness of the stones seeping into his skull. 

Why couldn't they go back just a few short days? Arthur vividly remembered that morning: tackling Merlin to the ground and tussling his hair, bantering in their unusual way, throwing food and fumbling over shirt lacings. It was easy. It was natural. 

But this was not. 

The dungeons were no place for Merlin. He didn't deserve to be down here and he didn't deserve to be abused at the hands of others. Arthur felt a fierce wave of protectiveness sweep through him. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Merlin was his best friend and Arthur swallowed the guilt that rose like bile in his throat. He had not been able to plead Merlin's innocence once and now he had failed again. Uther was going to burn Merlin in spite of the ginger sorcerer Arthur had become. 

Perhaps, he wondered silently, if I am thought to be dead, Merlin will be absolved of this nonsense. He has to be! Uther wants revenge on me and if I'm no longer there, what reason does he have to kill an innocent man? He wouldn't really do that… He's my father. Arthur mulled over this notion on the hard floor of the dungeons, his thoughts conflicted and his mind whizzing with activity. The only glitch in his reasoning was turning back into himself. He had no way of contacting Gwen to arrange a meeting in which he could drink the antidote. Perhaps their plan should have contained more details… His brief sighting of Gwen in the throne room that morning was hardly an appropriate time to plan the final stages of their mission. But Arthur certainly had no intention of being burned at the stake tomorrow and he certainly had no such morbid designs on Merlin's fate. _If he would wake up_ , Arthur sighed loudly and shook Merlin by the shoulders to gently rouse him. 

A sliver of blue shone between a purple eyelid as Merlin cracked his newly swollen eye open. The rest of the eye emerged into the dim light and blinked painfully. 

"I spoke with my father," Arthur whispered, keeping his voice low in case of any eavesdroppers. 

"What'd he say?" Merlin mumbled, closing his eyes again, a thin exhalation wracking his bruised body. Arthur patted Merlin's unbroken cheek. 

"Hey, stay with me, yeah?" 

Merlin forced his eyes open again. 

"He believes that I was the one plotting to kill…me," Arthur's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "I told him," he added, answering Merlin's inquiring look, "that I had enchanted you with powerful magic to carry out my plans." 

Merlin made a feeble attempt at a nod. " 'S good," he mumbled. 

"Well not quite," Arthur replied, running his fingerless-gloved hand through his auburn hair. "He wants you dead too, though I said you were innocent." Arthur fisted his hair at the memory of his father's expression, cold and severe as a carved figurehead. Thoughts whirled like a maelstrom in his brain as he mulled over his father's strange conviction of murdering Merlin. 

"Oh," Merlin mumbled. He sighed loudly, making the chains rattle ominously. He took a breath and tensed his neck muscles, attempting to sit up. Arthur raised him carefully and pulled him up the rest of the way so he could lean against the prince's shoulder. 

Merlin turned to face him, speaking solemnly. "It has always been an honour serving you, Arthur." 

Arthur stared back at his manservant. Merlin's shoulders slumped, his face was haggard from days in the dark with scarcely any food, one cheek bruised and purpling and the other broken and bleeding. 

"You're not going to die, idiot!" Arthur snapped, a trace of affection seeping through. Merlin caught it and held onto that like a lifeline. 

The warlock smiled brightly at his prince, a trace of his former self emerging. 

"No? Well then I hope the rest of your brilliant plan will make itself clear soon. Because I don't really fancy staying in here much longer." 

"Shut up, Merlin." Arthur gently clouted him over the head and the two men fell into a comfortable silence once more, each occupied with his own thoughts. 

:i:

Back in Gaius's chambers, Gwen paced restlessly across the small room, weaving between the tables and the remains of the piles of books that had occupied the room days ago. 

Gaius sat hunched over his work bench, absently mixing up a potion for Arthur. 

"What'll we do, Gaius?" Gwen asked again. "Uther is going to burn both of them tomorrow!" 

"We'll just have to get the antidote to Arthur as soon as possible and hope that the king lets Merlin off," Gaius reasoned, intent on his work. "I'm sure Arthur will think up something. In the worst case, Merlin could be smuggled out of the city if Uther is still intent on executing him." 

Gwen frowned but paused by the hearth. "How can you be so calm, Gaius? Aren't you worried for them?" 

"Worried? Of course I am, child. But worrying overmuch will not help them, now will it?" 

Gwen reluctantly agreed and took the proffered chair at Gaius's little work table. 

The sunlight slipped through the open window, bathing the hard floor in a gentle yellow. Gaius held the glass vial over an open flame, shaking the contents up and checking its color. 

"Just like the last time," Gaius mumbled absently. 

"What last time?" 

Oh, she had heard that. "Oh, uh, nothing my dear." 

"Gaius." 

Gaius' mouth twitched and he compared the colours again. "Oh, it's – well I suppose you ought to know now, what with all this mayhem abounding in the castle." He put the vial in a wooden support and measured out a small amount of blue powder. "This reminds me of the times I had to make a potion to change someone back from another such appearance." 

"Would this 'someone' happen to be Merlin?" Gwen guessed, though she felt she already knew the answer. 

Gaius smiled. "It was Merlin who saved you, Gwen, when you were accused of enchanting Arthur." 

Gwen sat back, knitting her brows together. "What?" 

"That old man that Arthur captured," Gaius murmured, stirring a bubbling green substance in a clay pot, "was Merlin." 

Gwen shook her head, not quite grasping the physician's words. "But Arthur told me the sorcerer was ancient!" 

"Well," Gaius's mouth curved in a wry smile, "Merlin performed an aging spell and he found that he was unable to break it. I swear, the boy's recklessness sometimes…" 

Gwen gaped, but pulled her jaw back up hurriedly. "Is that where you came up with this scheme to save Merlin?" 

The old physician nodded distractedly and poured the contents of the vile into the mixing bowl. "Something along those lines. But the original idea was Merlin's. Sometimes that boy amazes me and other times," he waved it off. Gwen smiled despite herself. 

The afternoon progressed slowly; both Gaius and Gwen grew more agitated as the evening drew near. Prince Arthur was said to have been confined to his chambers because of illness. Gaius had visited the empty rooms several times that day, each time bringing a plate of food that he had eaten himself and a bottle of harmless liquid. Well it was actually mead, but Gaius didn't have a problem with a little indulgence on his part. 

"The antidote is ready," Gaius said in a low voice. He placed his hands at the small of his back, stretching and yawning. 

Gwen put down the book of magic she was perusing. "I think I have an idea." She rose from the table and sprinted from the room, returning a quarter of an hour later with a small dagger. 

"Gaius, do you have any sort of potion that could give Merlin a boost of energy? He'll need it for this." 

"Just what are you planning, Guinevere?" Gaius wiped his hands on his robes, eyeing the dagger dubiously. But he was already reaching for a tonic. 

"Merlin is going to break them out tonight," she explained, "with magic, presumably. They'll plant this dagger in the dungeons, covered in blood and Uther will think that Merlin has killed Arthur – as the ginger sorcerer," she clarified. 

"And perhaps he will no longer feel it necessary to execute Merlin if the other sorcerer is dead!" Gaius concluded, a hint of a smile appearing on his wrinkled countenance. Gwen nodded, her curls bobbing up and down with the motion. 

"Well... at least I hope so." 

"How on earth are we going to get Arthur back into the castle undetected, Gwen?" Gaius clutched the vial of antidote to his chest. 

Gwen sighed, thinking. Then, "Do you have any rope?" 

:i:

The light was fading quickly and dusk settled into the castle, casting its murky veil over Camelot. Gwen headed back up the stairs of the dungeons, her hands empty this time. 

She had given Merlin and Arthur a bowl of soup and a loaf of bread. Food for the prisoners. Now she and Gaius needed to "visit Arthur" as he was presumably still ill. 

:i:

Arthur and Merlin retreated to the corner of the cell, their faces in the shadows. The cell was very dark with only a small ray of light knifing through the grate from high above. The guards were still by the stairwell; Arthur could hear them drinking and playing at dice. 

"Nice of Gwen to bring us food," Merlin said in a whisper, reaching for the loaf of bread. His long fingers curled around it, and he picked it up, surprised at how heavy it was. Frowning, Merlin bit into the end. 

"Hey! Break it in half. I don't want your saliva all over my dinner if this is the only food we get," Arthur said. 

"Sorry," the manservant mumbled around the piece he had bitten off. He grasped the bread, preparing to break it. The unmistakable glint of metal shone through the crust. Merlin raised it to his face, squinting. "Arthur?" 

Merlin broke the bread entirely in half. A slim dagger tumbled onto the hay and a small piece of parchment fluttered down to join it. 

Arthur reached for the dagger, turning it back and forth in his hand. Merlin looked furtively around before muttering the spell Arthur had failed to pronounce. A tiny flame leapt into the palm of his hand and he shielded its faint glow with his left hand, the paper resting on his knee. Arthur looked a bit startled at the open display of magic, but he decided that he would speak about these strange events and Morgana after they both had made it to safety and not the pyre. 

A- Fake your death. Maybe Uther will let Merlin go if he 'kills' the sorcerer. Leave through tunnels. We have rope to pull you into your chambers. I have the antidote. –G

M- Enjoy the soup! –G

Merlin and Arthur frowned at the paper. Well both Gwen and Gaius had the letter "G" as their first initial. But from the tone of the message, Arthur guessed that Gaius had written the first bit to him and Gwen had written the second. He said as much to Merlin. 

"No," Merlin said, drawing out the word. "I think Gwen wrote the first bit. Gaius would have said 'sire' or something." 

Arthur gave him an annoyed look. 

"And anyway, Gaius always tells me to eat my food so…"

Arthur shook his head. "No, Merlin. Gaius definitely wrote the first part." 

"I don't think he did!" 

"Shhh!" they both said hastily as booted feet came towards them. The dagger and the message were shoved beneath the rushes. Merlin sat on them, wincing at the cold metal and extinguished the flame. A guard's face poked through the bars and vanished. 

"Right," Arthur said, lowering his voice even more. He dunked a piece of bread into the soup and shovelled it into his mouth. Merlin followed the prince's example and sopped up some soup, feeling as though it was the best thing he had ever eaten. The food felt warm in his belly and he felt some energy returning. A strange aftertaste hit his pallet and Merlin astutely guessed that Gaius had drugged the soup with some sort of disgusting healing tonic. 

"You distract the guards," Arthur said, rising from the floor. 

"How do I do that?" 

"I don't know. Do I have to think of everything?" Arthur asked. "Unlock the door. You can unlock doors with magic, right?" 

Merlin huffed a bit, shooting Arthur the 'prat' glance. He got up to stand beside Arthur, swaying slightly as the sudden motion left him feeling dizzy. "Tospringe," he muttered, hand outstretched. The lock clicked and opened for them. Arthur slipped out into the dark corridor, his brown robe helping him to blend in against the stone walls of the dungeon.

  CHAPTER XVI

The warm soup and bread did wonders for Merlin's stomach. The paper message that Arthur made him swallow was a different matter. After breaking the chains off as quietly as he could, he was free and the door swung open on silenced hinges. Arthur slipped out into the dark corridor, his hands automatically reaching for his sword. He was perplexed to find it wasn't there until he remembered he has been disarmed by the city guards. Using some of his trade-mark hand gestures that Merlin never understood, Arthur took a step into the corridor, keeping to the wall. Merlin began to follow him but stopped when he received a death glare from the prince. Arthur pointed energetically at the dungeon guards on duty and then made a gesture that Merlin assumed meant he was an idiot. Merlin heaved his shoulders dramatically in a mute sigh and turned to face the guards. He raised his hand and was about to utter something when he felt cold fingers curling over his mouth. 

"Ar- what?" Merlin mumbled. Arthur released his hand and stepped in front of him. 

"You don't have magic Merlin." 

"Of course I do," Merlin began indignantly. 

"I am the evil sorcerer, remember? If they happen to see us, they'd better not see you doing the magic." Merlin cringed at the word 'evil' but Arthur's face softened and he knew he hadn't meant it as a personal slight. Firmly planted in front of his manservant, Arthur hesitated. 

"Well?" Merlin prompted. 

Arthur frowned into the darkness. "Um, what exactly is it that you do to, um, do this sort of …thing." 

Merlin stretched his hand out again, flexing his fingers and looked at the guards. Arthur, observing from craning his neck back to look, copied the gesture. 

"Right, I think I've got it." 

"So just stand there like that and I'll distract them." Merlin slipped into the shadows. He was aware of his heart palpitating like a kettle drum in his chest as he crouched behind a crate and focused his attention on the guards. There were four of them and they were absorbed in a game of dice and their drinks. 

Considering his situation carefully from the shadows, Merlin knocked over the clay jug of beer without uttering a sound. The sharp noise of shattering crockery made him cringe but the guards were sufficiently disgruntled at such sacrilegious treatment of drink. Their shouting swiftly morphed into punching as several of them had had more than their fair share of alcohol. Merlin upended their table and a spurt of ceiling crumbled down to complete the ensemble of strategic chaos. 

Arthur had ceased watching the guards by now and was staring slack-jawed at the man who had caused the scene without so much as batting an eyelash or opening his mouth. Merlin glanced up at the prince and then away, feeling slightly uncomfortable at performing magic in front of his friend. Old habits die hard, he thought, rising to his feet. 

"Let's get out of here." 

"I give the orders, Merlin," Arthur reminded him, stepping into the shadows out of sight. 

"Right, sorry." Merlin amended. He watched the prince for a moment longer. "Let's go." 

Looking thoroughly exasperated at Merlin's cheek, Arthur took off after the warlock down the twisting corridors that led towards the grate and the outside world. 

Merlin pulled out the little dagger. "I'm supposed to kill you." 

"Great," Arthur said, not sounding pleased in the least. Merlin stepped forward and slashed at Arthur's brown cloak with the dagger. "Watch it, Merlin!" Arthur hissed, yanking his arm out of the way. "You're not meant to stab me to death. Not that you could." 

"You'd be surprised," Merlin said, looking a little miffed. He stepped forward again and began slashing at Arthur's robe methodically. "I'm stronger than I look." 

"I've been trained to kill since birth," Arthur reminded him, rather unnecessarily Merlin thought. 

"Prat." 

He was swatted about the head as a sizable piece of brown cloth fluttered to the floor. Echoes of the guards came hurtling down the hall and Arthur and Merlin froze like a pair of deer in torchlight. 

"Hurry up," Arthur said. When Merlin had sufficiently slashed Arthur's robes a bit, Arthur took the knife and Merlin by the arm. "Obviously, I put up a fight. So, you'll need to bear some battle wounds." 

"Arthur, I'm already bruised and smashed beyond repair!" He gestured at his swollen eye, broken cheekbone, and the bruises under his tunic sleeves. 

"Well you wouldn't have escaped an encounter with a sorcerer unscathed, idiot." 

"Well I'm not going to let you slash me with that knife!" 

Arthur threw his hands up in the air. "Fine! Do … something with magic to yourself then – but make it look real at least," he added upon seeing Merlin's cavalier look. "And be quick about it, they're sure to find us." 

Merlin wasn't entirely certain how to inflict fake injuries upon his own person, but he put his hands on his side and murmured an enchantment he created on the fly. A seeping knife wound appeared, soaking through the shirt. It didn't hurt and was entirely an illusion, but it looked massive enough, he hoped. 

"Oi!" 

The guard paused, pointing from the shadows of another corridor and hailed his mates. Merlin just managed to duck a punch Arthur aimed for his face and he lashed out with the knife in his hand. Arthur caught his hand between his arm and side, their silhouette making it look as though Merlin ran him through with a tiny dagger. _As if_ , Arthur thought. 

The guards’ heavy footsteps came rushing down the corridor towards them. Arthur doubled over from the "fatal blow" and motioned towards the grate. He held out his hand and yelled the first thing of incomprehensible gibberish that came to mind ("Awooga!") while Merlin blew out the grate in an explosion of light and smoke. The warlock collapsed upon the ground, gripping his knife wound as though it hurt. He rolled onto his side, facing the oncoming guards. _Awooga?_ he thought. The guards' faces were priceless as they gaped at the smoking remains of the grate. The ginger sorcerer had vanished into thin air. The brown cloak fluttered onto the grass outside of the dungeons, no trace of Arthur remained. 

:i:

Meanwhile, Arthur took off into the night, keeping to the sides of the castle walls and heading carefully towards the tower in which his own chambers lay. He was breathing heavily from his adrenaline-filled flight from the dungeons and the concern that tugged at his mind for Merlin. Would he be all right back there? 

There was no light coming from his window, but still Arthur knew which one it was. He paced around by the wall for a while before deciding on a faint owl hoot. Looking up, a friendly face appeared in the window. Gwen. A rope was lowered. 

Arthur grabbed hold of the rope, curling his left hand around it. He grunted in pain as he automatically used his right hand to hoist himself up the line. The cut on his hand had reopened – the delicate pink skin of scar tissue bursting under the roughness of the rope and the chafing of the glove. Frowning in determination, Arthur bit back the pain and clamoured up the line, using his feet along the stone walls. 

When he finally came level with the window, Arthur's muscles were burning as if he’d been hauling rocks all day. The outer tower wall felt like an interminable cliff face, but he had very good arms and he made it to his window without incident. The prince came up, gasping for breath, his arms burning and feeling like custard the moment the tension was released. He collapsed gratefully into the waiting arms of Guinevere. 

"Arthur," she stroked his red hair softly, "hurry and take this. We haven't much time. Morgana is coming." 

"What?" 

"Just hurry!" Guinevere shoved a bottle of liquid into his bloodied hands and resumed her post by the door. Peeking through a crack in the wood, she could see the hallway was deserted near the prince's chambers, but the unmistakable click of the Lady Morgana's shoes echoed faintly through the halls. She was coming and Gwen did not trust her in the slightest. 

When Gwen turned around, she saw Arthur doubled over on the floor looking something akin to a snail. 

"Arthur!" She rushed to his side. "Arthur, are you alright? Is the potion working?" she asked hopefully. Arthur cracked open an eyelid and regarded her with grim tolerance. He convulsed once more before going completely limp. But he was back. Gwen touched his hair gently; it had returned to its typical shade of honey-brown and his complexion was no longer ruddy and freckled. 

But now Gwen was faced with something of a problem. Morgana was due to arrive any moment and Arthur had seen fit to become a dead weight on the floor, conked out from Gaius's disgusting elixir of transformation. ("It might go a bit harder on someone without magical abilities," he warned.) Gwen felt her palms heating up and growing slick with sweat. The clicking footsteps were coming closer, but the sounds caused Gwen to imagine a giant, irate bird instead of her mistress. Thank goodness the brown druid cloak was nowhere on Arthur's person. Arthur had left it all torn to shreds just outside the smoking grate. Gwen crouched over the prince, wringing her hands and unable to hoist his great bulk onto the bed again. On a sudden spark of divine genius, she tore down the bedclothes and rumpled them as much as she could so it sort of looked like a sick man had lain on the bed. 

"Arthur, please wake up," Gwen whispered urgently. The door creaked open and a sliver of light came into the room. 

"Gwen!" Morgana cried, clicking her way towards her handmaiden. "What's happened to Arthur? Why is he on the floor?" 

Gwen rose immediately, mustering her courage in the face of the woman she used to trust. "He's been very ill, my lady. Very ill.” 

"I see," Morgana said a bit suspiciously, arching an eyebrow. "I heard that he was ill. I merely wanted to check on him." 

_I'm sure you did_ , Gwen thought, but she covered it with a smile. "How thoughtful, my lady. Gaius and I were taking turns watching him." 

Morgana glance down at Arthur's prostrate form on the cold floor. "Then why is he on the floor, Gwen?" 

"Oh!" She crouched down beside the prince once more, taking him by the shoulders. Morgana glared at the back of Gwen's neck for she knew how close the two of them were. "It was the illness, my lady. He was thrashing about and I could not stop him in time. And now I can't seem to move him on my own, but I didn't want to leave him alone. Oh, I'm so glad you've come! Perhaps you could… um, help me!" 

"Of course, Gwen," Morgana nodded eagerly, a false smile plastered across her face like a fresco. Together, she and Gwen managed to heave Arthur's soldierly bulk back onto the rumpled bed. 

Morgana stroked her brother's brow gently, each time visualizing a knife in her hand. _So Arthur had been ill,_ she thought, _and in bed with his boots on._

Gwen was watching her mistress carefully from beneath the screen of her lashes. There was something slightly odd about Morgana's expression, like she was feeling both angry and sympathetic at once. 

"Take care of him," Morgana said innocently. She headed for the door. "Oh, and Gwen?" 

"Yes, my lady?" 

"Maybe see to it that he’s properly dressed for bed." 

She left the prince's chambers. Gwen gasped and sat down at the edge of the bed. 

"Wake up, Arthur, please." 

A groan. 

"Oh, come on! It couldn't have tasted that horrible." 

"Mmphm. You try taking one of Gaius' concoctions, Gwen, and see how you like it." 

"Is Merlin alright?" 

"What?" 

"Is Merlin alright?" Gwen repeated, growing more nervous. 

Arthur massaged his temples, the effects of the elixir wearing off. "I think so. He stayed behind after he pretended to kill me." 

Gwen leapt from the bed. "You left him back there! At the mercy of those guards! Arthur – they are thugs!" 

"Guinevere," Arthur said, stretching out her name, "he'll be fine. The guards aren't that bad." 

"Oh no?" Gwen said sceptically. "Were you manhandled by them too then? I suppose since you're a prince, you're impervious to pain!" 

Arthur, looking thoroughly chastened, had the grace to look apologetic. "I'm sorry Guinevere. I had forgotten that you, too, suffered at the hands of my father and his guards." 

"And Morgana," Gwen muttered under her breath. 

"What?" 

She shook her head, "Nothing, Arthur." 

"No, you said something. Tell me," he insisted. 

"I'm glad you're feeling better," she said sympathetically. "I'll check back on you in a few hours. I need to see how Merlin's doing. Change your clothes," she added. "They're full of muck." 

She left the chambers with a straight back. Arthur stretched out in his bed feeling restless. If he wasn't "seriously ill" he would have gone to check on his friend too. He needed to be sure Merlin was safe. 

  CHAPTER XVII

Merlin groaned as he was manhandled down the hall towards Gaius's chambers. The guards were none too gentle, but they knew the king would be furious if the convicted manservant had escaped as well – even though he had managed to get rid of the evil ginger. Hadn't he? 

Gaius was rather flustered when three armed guards barged into his rooms, pulling him from the bed. He hadn't been in a deep sleep– how could he have been with Merlin and Arthur's life on the line? Gathering his frayed pride, Gaius righted his sleeping cap and robes and dusted off his spectacles; they perched on his nose like a scrawny bird. He blinked a few times, vision adjusting. 

"Merlin!" Gaius exclaimed, rushing forward, limbs slightly encumbered by sleep. He took the boy from the guards and laid him gently upon his still-warm bed. "My boy, my boy," he murmured. 

The guards hovered awkwardly by the steps. Finally, one cleared his throat. 

"The ginger sorcerer escaped," he said. 

"Well yes, I had heard the warning bell," Gaius snapped in defence of his hearing. He turned back to his injured ward, carding his fingers gently through Merlin's matted black hair. "Why have you brought him here?" he asked suddenly, turning back to face them. 

"He -- we saw them escaping. But he," the guard shrugged slightly, "it looked like he turned on the ginger sorcerer and stabbed him." 

Another guard cut in, "And when we reached them, the ginger was gone in a puff of smoke and that other one was writhing on the ground with a gash in his side." 

Gaius frowned and pulled Merlin's shirt up. Sure enough, there was a gaping knife wound in his side. Or what appeared to be a knife wound – Gaius didn't seriously think Arthur would have slashed Merlin… but it did look real. 

"The king will want to question him about the ginger sorcerer's disappearance. So you see, we can't have him dead from his battle wounds." 

"Battle wounds. I see," Gaius said slowly, his eyebrow climbing above his forehead. The guards shifted uneasily under the old man's scrutiny. "You may go now. I will tend to him and see that he is brought before the king when he is sufficiently recovered." 

Gaius lit a candle stub on his work table and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Their plan had worked thus far. Merlin was back where he belonged for now. The physician assembled a small army of medical supplies upon his work bench, doing a quick head count and hastily replacing certain items for ones better suited for the task of healing his ward. Bandages soaked in boiling water were summarily prepared. Gaius set down a few jars of salves and began grinding up some herbs. He scowled into his stone dish, pounding the life out of some hapless plant. 

A weak sound came from the bed. Gaius didn't turn around, intent on his work, but he smiled to himself. 

"How do you feel Merlin?" he inquired gently, doing his best to stay professional. It helped him stay calm. 

Merlin was silent, but Gaius knew his ward was pulling a face. 

"Oh," he began, struggling to sit up. "I'm fine. Just," he ran a hand over his face, "broken and bruised and rather dizzy and hungry. Do you have any food?" 

Gaius laughed aloud. "Merlin," he tutted, spinning around with a sheaf of medical papers under his arm and a paste of aloe in a dish. 

"What happened in the dungeons?" he asked softly, settling himself on the edge of the bed beside the warlock. 

Merlin massaged his neck, feeling the tension begin to dissipate. His face had begun to throb again after his dramatized scuffle in the dungeons with Arthur. "Arthur got away," he said. "I hope." 

Gaius looked grim, "I hope so too. But, ah, let's take a look at that wound." He reached for Merlin's shirt and found his ward's skin pale as it ever was. No trace of the knife wound, only bruises and small scrapes. Raising an eyebrow, Gaius gave Merlin The Look before smearing a generous amount of salve over Merlin's purpling eye. 

"Ah- hey!" Merlin jerked away, a smile breaking out on his fractured face. 

"If you don't let me treat you, you'll be scarred for life," Gaius threatened with a mock-serious face. "Now let me take a look at you." 

Merlin shivered as the cool winter air hit his bare skin. He wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly self-conscious. He knew his chest was a sickly yellow colour from the bruises, periodically accented with traces of dried blood. Gaius eased him down upon the pallet and began probing gently here and there, searching for breaks and other injury. 

"Am I going to stay in one piece?" Merlin asked, laced with dramatics. 

"Yes, Merlin. You're not going to die. But I am worried about that face of yours." 

Merlin looked mildly offended, but he chuckled despite himself. "Uther crushed it with a gauntlet. I always hated those things." 

As Gaius tended to Merlin, he felt secretly proud of the light-hearted attitude his ward had adopted. Anyone else would have been silent and bitter, but Merlin bore his pain like a knight of Camelot. The door squeaked on its hinges and both Gaius and Merlin's heads snapped towards the sound as though they were attached by strings. 

Gwen slipped into the room, immediately exhaling heavily at the sight of Merlin. 

"Thank goodness you're all right, Merlin," she said, rushing to his bedside. She ran a hand over his cheek, feeling the swollen skin beneath her fingers. "How do you feel?" 

"I think I look like one of Arthur's childhood attempts at painting," Merlin remarked, glancing down at his chest. His skin was covered in gooseflesh, adding to a grainy effect in the abstraction of bruised skin and blood. Gaius was gently sponging away the dried blood. 

Gwen soon found herself in Gaius's place, spreading salve across Merlin's chest and arms and talking to him quietly about things that didn't involve dungeons and sorcerers and vengeful Morganas that may or may not have caught on to their plan. Gwen especially steered clear of the topic of magic – and the fact that she had been reading Merlin's magic books the past few days. 

"You'll be good as new in no time," Gwen said cheerfully, dabbing at an especially angry-looking cut. Merlin winced, but smiled softly. 

"How's Arthur?" 

"Asleep I hope," Gwen said mournfully, and Merlin took it to mean that the potion had done its job. One felt terribly hung over with the after effects of the antidote for appearance spells. 

"'S good," he murmured, eyes drooping closed. Gwen pressed a gentle kiss on his brow and stood up to sit beside Gaius at the table. The physician was sorting through some leaves and Gwen immediately stepped in, separating kitchen herbs and medicinal herbs and stray bits of grass. 

:i:

Two days later, Merlin was dressed and hunched over the rickety table inhaling porridge as though it were water from the Fountain of Youth itself. 

"Slow down, Merlin, or you'll start hiccoughing," Gaius remarked, setting down his magnifying class. "And drink your juice." 

Merlin mumbled around a mouthful of Gaius's glue. He swallowed his mouthful, feeling it stick in his throat almost painfully. His cheek was bandaged up and the swelling around his eye had receded. 

"Yes, well," Gaius said, but stopped. It really wasn't any use at all, was it? "You've got an audience with the king this morning." 

Merlin looked up, speechless with grape juice. 

"The king? Today?" He demanded, swallowing it in a lump that left his throat sore. A swig of water assuaged the pain and he took another, gulping thirstily before erupting in a bought of coughing. Gaius rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, which, he noted, was really in need of a good scrub. 

"Today," Gaius confirmed Merlin's trepidation. "He wants to ask you some questions about your role in killing the sorcerer." 

"I didn't kill him," Merlin said. 

"Well Uther believes you did – that's what the guards reported." 

"Oh. Right." 

He shovelled another spoonful of porridge into his mouth. Going to see Uther felt like going into the wildoren caves. Merlin wondered if he could smear himself with the porridge to postpone his audience with the king. 

:i:

Uther sat on the throne, a look of thoughtful contemplation on his face. Ever since Morgana had ridden out to visit her father's grave, he had felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. He couldn't explain why being parted from his precious ward made him feel so, but it did. Strange though, that she did not take her maid with her. Uther pushed it aside, what did servants really matter anyway? 

And then Merlin entered the room in a clean blue shirt and awful new neckerchief around his scrawny little neck. In the light of day, the wounds on his face looked vile and Uther drew his brows together, remembering that he had done that to him. 

"Sire." Gaius bowed, coming in behind the boy. 

"Gaius." Uther acknowledged him with a nod. "Now," he turned to Merlin. "I have a few questions for you." 

Merlin remained silent but he inclined his head. He swayed slightly and Uther waved a servant in to bring a chair for the teetering manservant. 

"I understand that you—" 

_Hic._

"I understand that you and the red sorcerer nearly escaped." Uther took a sip of wine from his goblet, regarding Merlin over the rim. 

Merlin stared dumbly. 

"You may speak," Uther said impatiently, waving his hand. 

"Your highness, _hic!_ he broke out of the cell." 

"You went with him?" 

"I had no choice, sire," Merlin assured the king. 

_Hic_. 

"No, of course not," Uther said, setting down his goblet. "He had enchanted you." 

Merlin nodded, the movement punctuated by another hiccough. Uther looked mildly strained. 

"Tell me then," he said looking at Gaius as well to include him, "the red sorcerer seemed to have vanished. His cloak was found outside the damaged grate, torn to shreds." 

"Sire," Gaius said, stepping forward, "it is … common for ginger sorcerers to explode when dealt a mortal blow." 

Uther's eyebrows shot up. "Is this true, Gaius?" 

_Hic_. 

"Yes, sire." Gaius nodded. "It is true. I have documentation of at least three other ginger sorcerers in history – before the Purge of course," he tacked on, "all exploded." 

"Who were they?" Uther asked, intrigued by these exploding gingers. 

_Hic_. 

Uther glared at Merlin. 

"Well, there was Joseph of Caerleon, the most famous ginger sorcerer. He was stabbed by his sister and when he exploded he killed them both." 

Uther was nodding. "That is most unusual. And you are certain that is what happened with this one?" 

"Quite sure, Sire. The ruined cloak attests to that fact. As does the smoke the guards witnessed." 

_Hic_. 

"Must you do that?" Uther asked Merlin, rubbing his forehead. "Make that… noise?" 

"I'm sorry, sire. I'll _hic!_ try to stop." 

The king nodded absently, contemplating this new information. 

"What I gather from this is that you killed the evil ginger sorcerer." The king fixed his attention on Merlin once more. Merlin's shoulders heaved as he suppressed a hiccough. "Thus breaking his enchantment on you." 

Merlin nodded slowly, not wanting to become too hopeful. 

_HIC!_

It just burst out. Merlin blushed faintly, glancing at Gaius who rolled his eyes when the king wasn’t looking. 

Uther turned back to Gaius and the physician immediately assumed a professional facial expression. "Gaius," the king said, "I want you to examine him for any traces of dark magic that may be lingering." 

"Of course, sire," Gaius said. "You do not intend on having him executed?" he asked carefully. 

The king seemed to consider this for a moment. He had been feeling strangely lighter since Morgana had gone on her pilgrimage – not as stressed and tense. "No, I think I will not," he decided. "After all, he does have some sort of mental affliction. Look into that as well, Gaius." 

"Yes, sire." Gaius bowed and began to leave the room. 

"Oh, and Gaius?" 

Gaius turned around. 

"How is Arthur? Is he feeling better?" The king asked. He waved his hand at Merlin, dismissing him. Merlin left the room. 

"Much better this morning," Gaius said. "I found a new elixir that seemed to take away the strange symptoms." 

"Thank you Gaius, once again I owe you a great deal." 

"It is my pleasure, sire." 

  CHAPTER XVIII

It was early afternoon. Morgana stepped through the forest. Her gown became entangled on a branch, but she ripped it free and pressed on. Needless to say, she was beyond angry and extremely frustrated. The woods were thick with mist when she stepped into a little clearing, waiting for Morgause. 

“Sister,” Morgause greeted her solemnly, stepping out from behind a tree. Morgana turned at her sister’s voice, but didn’t smile. “What troubles you?” 

Morgana hesitated. “It’s Merlin,” she confessed. “He and the ginger sorcerer escaped the dungeons last night.” 

Morgause did not look surprised and Morgana had the sneaking suspicion that her sister already knew what had transpired. It irked Morgana. 

“Who is this ginger?” Morgause asked curiously. 

“I do not know,” Morgana replied with a shake of her head. She took a step and Morgause drifted after her. The sisters circled the little glen in the sunlight. “He claimed he had enchanted Merlin to kill the prince. But, but he couldn’t have. Merlin didn’t do anything – _I_ accused him of sorcery.” 

Morgause looked thoughtful, but she waited for Morgana to draw the same connection. The younger sister lifted her head, eyes filled with speculation. “That’s exactly what happened when we tried to off Gwen.” She said through clenched teeth. “Another sorcerer appeared to take the blame!” 

“Do you think he is the same? The old man and the ginger.” 

Morgana’s brow furrowed in thought and she sat down upon a conveniently placed chunk of granite. She longed to do something to vent her frustration, but settled for sneering and lip-curling. 

She shook her head. “I don’t know. But it’s more than a coincidence.” 

“Indeed it is,” Morgause replied, placing a consoling hand on her distraught sister’s shoulder. “We must find a way of killing him.” 

“He vanished last night. I asked Gaius about him and he said he had exploded.” 

Morgause’s brows shot up. “Exploded?” 

Morgana nodded. 

“Ginger sorcerers tend to explode when dealt a mortal blow, according to the good court physician of Camelot.” Morgana said in a slightly mocking tone. 

“I have never heard tell of this,” Morgause said, a scheme forming on her face. “I must test it!” 

Morgana frowned, but didn’t object. What Morgause did in her spare time was entirely up to her. 

“But what’s to be done about Merlin?” Morgana asked impatiently. 

“Patience sister. Uther will execute him, just as you planned. The explosion of the ginger should have no bearing on his sentence.” 

“But the guards said they saw Merlin stab him.” 

Morgause frowned and Morgana continued, “And they think that Merlin killed the sorcerer and broke the enchantment.” 

“You will have to wait and see what Uther has decided then,” Morgause concluded firmly. “Surely by the time you return to Camelot, something will have happened.” 

“I only hope I haven’t missed the execution,” Morgana muttered. “But if Merlin has gone free…”

“Peace, sister. You will think of something. Why not just kill him outright?” 

Morgana shifted on her rock. “That’s a good idea, sister.” 

:i:

“Merlin, must you make such a racket?” 

Arthur massaged his brow in a futile attempt to drown out the foot-tapping. Merlin was polishing his armour in his room again whilst banging his foot incessantly on the table leg. And it was getting quite annoying. 

“Merlin!” 

“Sorry, sire.” 

Arthur lobbed the closet object within reach at his manservant. Merlin ducked and the rock went flying across the room. 

The door opened. Both men looked up to see Uther standing in the doorway looking a little pained. 

Arthur stood abruptly. “Father.” 

“Arthur,” Uther said, rubbing his stomach gingerly where the rock had struck him. He frowned at Merlin a moment before saying, “I’m glad you’re feeling better. You gave us quite a scare for a few days.” 

“Yes, it’s good to be well again,” Arthur said. “I owe it all to Gaius.” 

“Indeed,” Uther nodded. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, looking as if he wished to say more, perhaps to apologize to his son and his servant, but he simply nodded to himself again. “I will see you at the feast tonight.” 

“Feast?” Merlin asked when Uther had gone. 

“Yes, Merlin, you know the events where we eat lots of food?” 

“And I stand behind your chair fetching you this and that and more wine?” 

Arthur contained a puff of laughter. “Don’t be such a clotpole, Merlin.” 

Merlin paused in his armour polishing. “That’s my word.” 

“And it suits you perfectly,” Arthur replied smugly, leaning back in his chair to get better access to the light. Merlin rolled his eyes behind the map and Arthur’s chainmail promptly slid off the table. 

“Oops.” 

The prince glared over Camelot’s borders. 

“Armour’s all done,” Merlin said, standing abruptly and watching in dismay as his chair toppled over. Arthur’s forehead hit the desk in annoyance, but when he looked up, a semblance of a smile graced his features. 

“Your forehead is all red now,” Merlin remarked. “You shouldn’t do that.” 

The smile turned to a look of annoyance again. 

“I’ll shut up,” Merlin amended lamely. The two sat in silence, remembering the events of the past few days. It had only been that morning that Merlin was cleared of the charges laid against him. He caught Arthur glancing at his bruises from time to time and wondered if the prince felt guilty. He shouldn’t really; it wasn’t his fault in the least. 

A little while later, “Merlin, we need to talk.” 

Merlin stiffened. “About what, sire?” he asked, noncommittally. 

Arthur lounged against the wall near the window, the late morning light illuminating him like a golden statue. “You know.” Abruptly. 

Merlin’s shoulders sagged and he took a seat at the table. The wood felt unusually hard and Merlin kept squirming, unable to get comfortable. Arthur took a seat across from him. He looked equally ill at ease, but his court training was coming in handy. Merlin seriously considered experimenting with an invisibility spell. 

“So,” Arthur said, leaning forward on his elbows and putting on what he hoped was an open expression. “Gaius already told me quite a bit, but I imagine there’s more.” He paused, looking away from his manservant. “Why would you come to Camelot when you practice magic?” 

Merlin shrugged because he really didn’t have a proper answer. “I don’t practice it, I was born with it. But anyway, my magic was out of control. Mother, uh, she thought it best that I go to Gaius so he could help me. I don’t think she knew it was banned. It’s not illegal in Cenred’s kingdom.” 

“And you’ve been …” he choked out the word as such an idea was foreign to him, “protecting me all these years?” 

Merlin grinned. “You don’t know how many times I’ve saved your royal backside.” 

“Merlin.” 

Merlin closed his mouth. 

Finally, Arthur said, “Were you ever going to tell me?” 

“Of course,” Merlin said swiftly. “When you were king, I was going to reveal myself. It,” he paused reading Arthur’s hurt expression, “it just got harder and harder the longer I kept it in.” He glanced down at the table and suddenly Arthur was hit with just how stressful it must be to have to hide who you are. It was difficult enough having everyone see a prince and never Arthur. His face softened and he patted Merlin’s shoulder awkwardly. 

“Lighten up, it’s going to be okay.” 

“You’re not going to turn me in?” He thought he knew the answer, but he wanted to be sure. 

Arthur crossed his arms across his chest, wearing his best prat face. “Merlin, you imbecile. I just spent several days posing as a sorcerer, not to mention drinking those awful potions Gaius brewed.” He waved his hand as though to dispel an unpleasant scent. “Do you honestly think I’m going to hand you right back to my father?” 

“Prat,” Merlin clucked. “But no, because if you did, who would be around to bring you breakfast and wash your royal socks?” 

Arthur emitted an amused sound. 

“But you are okay with it? With my magic?” 

“I’ll have to get used it, I suppose,” Arthur said. Merlin grinned from ear to ear. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself.” 

The smile remained. 

The next bit of conversation dealt with Morgana, and Merlin struggled with the desire to spill everything out into the light or to continue concealing information that could hurt the prince. In the end, he settled for hinting at her possible treachery. Arthur would find out soon enough; Morgana and her sister were always scheming. 

Arthur fixed his manservant with a serious look. “I don’t want you going near her, Merlin. If she is trying to harm you, I want you to stay away from her, is that clear?” 

“Is this because you care about me?” Merlin asked, somewhat astonished and hopeful, and somewhat cynical. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur scoffed. 

Merlin nodded slowly. Arthur wasn’t quite sure his warning had gotten through to his wayward friend, but he took Merlin’s acceptance and the subject was closed for the time being. 

:i:

“Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to attend to Arthur at the feast and the celebrations?” Gaius asked solicitously as Merlin donned his servant’s garb. Merlin made an affirmative noise from beneath the shirt as he searched for the head hole. 

“Yeah, I feel fine, Gaius,” Merlin replied, his head free. He combed his fingers through his hair, smoothing down the fly-away ends. 

“Because you’re still covered in bruises, Merlin. Can’t you get rid of them?” 

Merlin turned around, slightly annoyed. “Get rid of them? What, you think I can just magic them away and no one will notice? Maybe bruises blow up too?” 

Gaius pressed his lips into a firm line at the jibe. “You’re lucky I thought of it.” 

“I’m just shocked the king actually believed you. Who in their right mind would even consider that to be sound?” Merlin shrugged in answer to his own question and picked up the feathered hat. Making the obvious decision, he put it back into its box and stepped around Gaius towards the main room. The old physician trailed after him. 

“At least the uniform covers most of it,” Gaius muttered, reaching for a jar of salve. Merlin instinctively backed away, shaking his head. “Come on, Merlin. It isn’t that bad,” Gaius said, holding up the salve as though it were a sacrificial offering. Merlin took another step back and banged his elbow into something. 

“But it smells horrible!” 

“Stop whinging Merlin, it will make the bruises go away faster.” 

“They can stick around for as long as they like,” Merlin said, swiftly side-stepping the onslaught of salve. Gaius raised his hand towards Merlin. “You wouldn’t,” Merlin said, looking at his mentor’s hand. He didn’t really expect Gaius to put a spell on him, but he supposed he deserved it. 

“Don’t test me, Merlin. Now come here.” 

Merlin sighed histrionically and slumped over towards a stool. Gaius began to apply the salve liberally, covering every inch of Merlin’s face. He was careful around the fractured cheekbone, but Gaius swore his salve helped broken skin and bone to heal faster as well. Merlin was of a differing opinion. 

“I suppose it can’t hurt,” Merlin sighed dejectedly. Gaius looked approving. “I mean, if it doesn’t poison me outright, the smell will surely do me in.” 

“Merlin,” Gaius quipped, slapping an extra big dollop onto Merlin’s head. 

“Hey!” the warlock flinched away, but only managed to make it worse. A bit got too close to his mouth and he could taste something awful blooming on his lips. “What’s in this stuff?” 

“I told you,” Gaius replied, intent on his salve-applying as he worked his way down Merlin’s neck. “It’s a salve to heal bruises and mend broken flesh.” 

Merlin looked dubious. “What’s _in_ it?” 

“Gaia berries.” 

:i:

“You smell awful,” Gwen said, taking a step back and holding the jug of wine against herself like a shield. 

“Gaius smeared me with a paste. It’s to help the bruises,” Merlin added sarcastically. “I think he just enjoys making me squirm.” 

Gwen chuckled, “Well, you certainly won’t have any problems with the ladies of court tonight.” 

“That’s one good thing,” Merlin agreed. He didn’t quite understand it, but apparently several of the ladies fancied him. “Tell me another?” 

Gwen shook her head, laughing and moved off to refill goblets. Merlin hovered in the background behind the prince’s chair, anticipating the cup to run dry. 

“Any second now...” Merlin whispered to himself. Arthur drained his goblet and Merlin was instantly by his side again, pouring more liquid. He noticed the prince was holding his breath. 

“What is it? Do I smell bad?” Merlin asked. Arthur glared at him. So far, Merlin had been hanging around Arthur, enjoying the effect Gaius’s paste had on the prince. Merlin himself had gotten accustomed to smelling like Gaia berries and was now happily mingling with those he did not hold in high esteem. 

“Planning to go wildoren-hunting again, Merlin?” Arthur bit back, breathing through his mouth. 

“Ready when you are, sire,” he replied in his most chipper voice. “Gaius has plenty more salve for you.” 

Arthur took a gulp of air and waved his manservant away. Merlin moved off with a sly grin. 

The dancing was in full swing when Merlin stepped into the courtyard for a breath of fresh air. A full moon hung overhead and Merlin gazed at it, suddenly puzzled. He hadn’t recalled seeing the moon any other way since he came to Camelot. Merlin sat on the steps and rested his head in his hands. His face felt sticky, warm, and flushed from the activity within the hall. It had been raining earlier that afternoon and several small puddles sat like glistening pools of starlight on the stones. Merlin inched closer to one and peered at his reflection. The bruises were fading, but the side of his face where Uther had smacked him with a metal glove was still looking nasty. 

“Merlin?” 

Merlin looked up searching for whoever had called his name. The courtyard was dark and empty. 

“Merlin,” the voice said, full of warmth. Merlin turned his head towards the puddle again looked into it. 

“Freya!” he exclaimed, his own voice cracking. Tears sprang to his eyes and he leaned over the puddle as though he could dive into it. “Is that really you?” 

“Yes Merlin,” she replied; her image surfaced on the water, rippling delicately. “I’ve missed you.” 

Merlin, speechless, could only nod. 

“I want you to be careful,” she said, her voice falling like raindrops on his ears. “The witch whose dress you borrowed is angry with you.” 

Merlin’s smile faded. “The witch whose dress... oh. Oh. Morgana,” he said. 

Freya’s watery image nodded. “Take care, Merlin. Do not drink anything she gives you.” 

“I’d never drink something from her. I'll be careful, Freya.” Her named sounded wonderful rolling off his tongue. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you, Merlin. I will wait for you.” 

Merlin smiled back before it registered. “Wait for me? Will I see you again soon?” 

Freya laughed softly, making the edges of the puddle tremble. “I hope so, Merlin.” 

And Merlin loved the way his name sounded on her lips. 

:i:

The feast was still in full swing when Merlin slipped back into the castle. Gwen and another maid were replacing the tapers and Gaius was sitting beside Uther showing him some illuminated pages in a book. Merlin had a very good guess what was on those book pages. Gaius had asked him to conjure some pictures like he had with Lancelot’s forged Northumberland papers of exploding ginger sorcerers. The physician caught Merlin’s eye across the way and he gave his ward a conspiratorial eyebrow. Merlin grinned and ran into a stone column. 

“Merlin!” Gwen was hovering over him. Merlin cracked his eyes open and sat up. “Are you alright?” 

“I- I did not just run into that,” Merlin said, rubbing his shoulder in denial. Gwen gave him a lopsided smile. 

“Is your shoulder all right? You’re not going to be bruised again, I hope. You bruise very easily.” 

“I do?” 

“Let’s hope it wasn’t your brain,” Gwen muttered, offering her friend a hand. “There,” she said, dusting off his red livery. 

“Thanks,” Merlin replied. “I think I need a drink.” 

Gwen raised her eyebrows to an impressive altitude at this and Merlin made a mental note to put her in the running for his Eyebrow Awards. 

“Are you sure you should be drinking? You’ve only just begun to recover. And, and that salve is still...” she flapped her hands a bit. 

“I’m not the lightweight everyone would believe me to be,” said Merlin defensively. 

“All right,” Gwen replied, picking up her jug of wine and wandering off. 

“Hey! I thought you were going to give me a cup of that.” 

“Pour your own!” Gwen called over her shoulder with a grin as she melted back into the crowd. 

Merlin was jostled to and fro between undulating bodies dancing the night away. He spied Morgana in a glittering white dress watching him and he hastily averted his gaze. Hurrying to the other side of the hall, he ran into Arthur dancing with one of the ladies of court. But the prince wasn’t watching his dancing partner; his eyes were locked with someone else’s (Gwen’s) across the room. Merlin drifted towards the prince. 

“Sire,” he inclined his head. Arthur and his lady slowed their dancing and regarded him with relief and annoyance respectively. 

“Ah, Merlin, just the man I needed to see,” Arthur said. Laying a gentle hand on the lady’s arm, he said, “Forgive me for this interruption, but I really must see to, um, I must see to something rather urgent.” 

“Of course my lord,” the lady replied demurely. Merlin thought she sounded quite put out. She curtsied and drifted away to the edge of the room. 

“You’re a life saver, Merlin,” Arthur whispered in his ear as they made their way towards the food table. “Listening to her prattle on about dresses and fabrics was almost as bad as listening to _your_ nonsense.” 

Merlin acknowledged the second definition to ‘life saver’ with a smile. “Well,” he began. 

“You still smell terrible.” 

“... Thanks?” 

“You’re welcome,” Arthur replied. “That was a compliment.” 

“I see,” said Merlin, not seeing at all. A servant passed by bearing a tray with two goblets. Merlin plucked them neatly off the tray and handed one to the prince. “Well, cheers,” he said. 

Arthur smiled, lifted the goblet. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Morgana watching the two of them intently. Suddenly mindful of his earlier conversation with Merlin, Arthur had one of those gut-wrenching moments when he knew something bad was going to happen. Usually it was Merlin who experienced such things, but Morgana had a strange look about her. 

“Don’t!” Arthur cried suddenly, snatching the goblet from beneath Merlin’s lips. The liquid sloshed over the edge, sizzling on the floor where the droplets sprayed. Merlin stared in horror at it and the back at Arthur. 

“What--” he began, but stopped when Arthur poured some of his own wine out. It hit the floor steaming. 

“Poison,” Arthur said quietly. “Come with me.” 

He stepped around the spilled wine which had reverted to its normal colour. Merlin followed him into the shadows of the banquet hall. 

No one around had taken notice of the strange drinks. Arthur chanced a look back at Morgana. He saw the familiar spark of anger in her eyes; he had seen it all too often as a child and now it was written all over her face like a storm cloud. 

Merlin was shaking slightly, whether it was due to his recent ordeal in the dungeons, the sickening stench of the Gaia berry salve, the collision with the stone column, or the shock of nearly drinking poison, Merlin wasn’t sure. He berated himself for not heeding Freya’s warnings. They had hunkered in the back of his mind – the forefront being overwhelmed by seeing her again. 

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked, in an unusually gentle voice. Merlin nodded, feeling a bit dizzy. 

“I think... I’ll go back to my room... if that’s alright with you,” Merlin managed. Arthur nodded. 

“It’s fine, Merlin. You – you can have the rest of the night off.” 

“Thank you Arthur.” Merlin staggered from the hall. 

:i:

The next morning arrived like any other. Merlin was late for work as per usual, dashing down the hallways with the prince’s breakfast in his arms. He burst into the chambers without knocking and tripped over an apple core on the floor. The food tray went flying. 

“Merlin, what the --” Arthur froze mid-sentence just as the tray of food froze in mid-air. The door slammed shut. Merlin gathered himself up off the floor and plucked the tray down like any normal person would take something off a shelf. Arthur would later deny the fact that he sputtered like a fish out of water. 

“Sausages,” Merlin announced grandly, sweeping the plate under the prince's nose. 

“Why is there only one?” Arthur crossed his arms and picked up the single sausage on his plate, waggling it in front of Merlin’s nose. 

Merlin went slightly cross-eyed looking at the hunk of meat and took a step back, knocking over the sword propped against the table. That too, righted itself. 

“I believe, Merlin, that this is going to take me a little longer to get used to than I anticipated.” 

Merlin snorted, making a face. 

“Do that again.” 

“Do what?” 

“That weird, scrunched up expression.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about....” Merlin gave the prince a funny look, clearly confused. 

Arthur shook his finger at him. “No, I’ve seen that somewhere before.” 

Merlin began to look apprehensive. “Um, I’m sure you haven’t really, sire. I mean, I --”

It dawned on him. “It was you!” Arthur shouted. 

“Who was me?” Merlin edged towards the door. Arthur picked up the nearest object within his reach – a pitcher. 

Instead of answering his manservant’s question, Arthur continued, “You said I mistreated my servants and you called me... a spoilt arrogant brat, was that it, Merlin?” 

“Um, it might have been?” 

The pitcher missed by a long shot. 

**Author's Note:**

> Written Sept.-Oct. 2011. Edited May 2012.  
> Originally published on FFn and LJ.  
> Revised 3rd Edition for AO3 (2016)


End file.
